v. 221 of

... ὀρθὸν χῶμ’ Ἀχιλλείου τάφου.

The attitude of Polyxena is based upon the beautiful verses in the messenger’s speech:—

λαβοῦσα πέπλους ἐξ ἄκρας ἐπωμίδος ἔρῥηξε λαγόνος ἐς μέσον παρ’ ὀμφαλόν, μαστούς τ’ ἔδειξε στέρνα θ’ ὡς ἀγάλματος

κάλλιστα, καὶ καθεῖσα πρὸς γαῖαν γόνυ ἔλεξε πάντων τλημονέστατον λόγον· ‘ἰδοὺ τόδ’, εἰ μὲν στέρνον, ὦ νεανία, παίειν προθυμεῖ, παῖσον, εἰ δ’ ὑπ’ αὐχένα χρῄζεις, πάρεστι λαιμὸς εὐτρεπὴς ὅδε.’ ὁ δ’ οὐ θέλων τε καὶ θέλων, οἴκτῳ κόρης, τέμνει σιδήρῳ πνεύματος διαρῥοάς. vs. 558–567.

Even the hesitation of Neoptolemos, expressed in the last two verses, finds its place in the relief. Odysseus, who was intimately identified with the proceedings from first to last (vs. 218–437), could not be wanting in an illustration of the final scene. Agamemnon too is fittingly present, for, according to Euripides, he had given the order to carry out the sacrifice,

Ἀγαμέμνων τ’ ἄναξ εἶπεν μεθεῖναι παρθένον νεανίαις. vs. 553 f.

and had dismissed Talthybios to Hekabe (v. 504).

The second part of the play begins with v. 658, where the servant of Hekabe enters with the body of the latter’s young son Polydoros. Priam had intrusted the boy to Polymestor, king of Thrace, when the Greeks attacked Ilion. A considerable sum of gold accompanied the child to ensure his maintenance if the city should be captured. As long as the Trojans held out, Polymestor was true to his charge, but no sooner had the news of the downfall of Priam’s house reached the ears of the good Thracian than he put the child to death for the money and cast his body out unburied. This is related in the prologue by the ghost of Polydoros, who also prophesies the death of Polyxena on that day. His body was accordingly discovered by the attendant, who happened upon it by mere chance, and immediately after receiving the terrible message from Talthybios, Hekabe was made to bow beneath another sorrow. She at once summons her courage and determines to have revenge upon the unrighteous Polymestor. She first relates to Agamemnon the story of the boy’s death, and the king, deeply incensed at the ἀξενία of the Thracian, agrees to her plan for avenging herself on the latter. She sends for Polymestor under the pretence of disclosing to him some weighty matter. He comes, and at her request dismisses his bodyguard, not mistrusting in the least that his crime had been discovered. To questions as to the welfare of Polydoros and the safety of the gold he replies that all is well and that the child would gladly have come to visit his mother. Hekabe then proceeds to tell him of some treasures which she wishes to commit to his keeping. These are in the tent, and he shall go inside and examine them for himself. ‘No Achaean is within; we are quite alone,’ she says, and with this assurance Polymestor leaves the light of day for ever. Once inside, his cries of agony soon announce that Hekabe has done her work with swift and certain hand.

The scene representing the reappearance of the blinded Polymestor has been recognized on a Lucanian vase[182]. In the middle stands the helpless king, his arms extended in a distressed manner. He is dressed in a short, embroidered chiton and a mantle, and wears a tall head-gear that indicates his barbarian nationality. Agamemnon is on the left, with sceptre and himation; he appears to be addressing the former. Following is a doryphoros. On the right are Hekabe and an attendant, both dressed in chiton and mantle. The latter places her arm over Hekabe’s shoulder and seems to be comforting her, as she shrinks away from the figure in the centre. The cane is suggestive of the queen’s age and of the wandering life upon which she is entering. A sword rests upon the ground, pointing probably to the weapon which was used to blind Polymestor. It is not necessary to cite any particular verses from Euripides which the artist may have had in mind. He simply told the story as it recurred to him. Especially suggestive of the king’s staggering step are the verses beginning

ὤμοι ἐγώ, πᾷ βῶ, πᾷ στῶ, πᾷ κέλσω; vs. 1056 ff.,

spoken when Polymestor first appeared before the tent of Hekabe after the latter had put out his eyes. The chorus, Agamemnon, and Hekabe are then present, and with alternating parts fill out the rest of the play (vs. 1109 ff.).

§ 5. HIPPOLYTOS.

In the _Phaidra_ of Sophokles and the first _Hippolytos_ of Euripides it was Phaidra herself who acknowledged to Hippolytos her love for him. The votary of Artemis, at once enraged at this effrontery, cast her aside. She then defamed the youth to Theseus, who, believing her statement, prayed to Poseidon to destroy his son. The god accordingly sent a sea-monster to frighten the horses of Hippolytos, and the latter was soon dragged to his death. On receiving the news of this, Phaidra hung herself[183]. Sophokles’ play does not appear to have ever made any impression upon the world and must have been soon forgotten, and Euripides’ tragedy met with great disapproval. Such a Phaidra was more than the Greeks would tolerate. The poet grasped the situation and wrote another _Hippolytos_, which set him right with his public. It was no longer Phaidra in and of herself who became the instrument of the youth’s death; Aphrodite, angered at Hippolytos’ serving Artemis instead of herself, starts the gentle flame within Phaidra’s bosom and visits her with a love-sickness that drives the unfortunate woman into a confession of her illness to her attendant. On the latter’s placing the matter before Hippolytos, all to no avail, Phaidra takes her own life, not forgetting, however, to leave behind a letter containing delicate charges against her step-son. Theseus returns, finds his wife a corpse, and reads the letter. The curse and death of his son follow, as in the earlier _Hippolytos_. This ruin was brought on him not so much by Phaidra as by Aphrodite.

The tragedy was counted among the best of Euripides’, and has always retained its popularity. The subject was dramatized again in Greek[184], and there is extant the Latin version of Seneca[185]. The theme was one which was sure to appeal to modern authors, and among the French alone one hears of no less than seven tragedies on the love of Phaidra, written between the years 1573 and 1786. Four of these, the most famous of which is Racine’s _Phèdre_, belong to the seventeenth century. They are, however, more directly indebted to Seneca and Ovid[186] than to Euripides. Mention should be made also of the two operas by Pellegrin, 1733, and Lemoine, 1786. But after all has been said on versions of the story either in classical or modern times, one turns to the masterpiece of Euripides as the great work. According to the author of the Hypothesis, the play is among the best of this poet and was given the first prize. In reflecting that Hippolytos has stood forth since March, 428 B.C., as the _beau idéal_ of innocent, unsullied, young manhood, one is inclined to credit the judges with possessing good sense.

There was hardly a more attractive legend than this which the artists might have been tempted to make their own, yet one discovers a surprising dearth of Greek monuments that can be referred to the myth. From these I select two vase paintings that appear to be based upon Euripides.

Fig. 14 represents a painting on a krater in the British Museum[187]. The upper section alone concerns us here, and this shows the interior of a gynaikonitis with _kline_. On the left is a group of two females. One sits on a stool to the right, wears chiton and veil, diadem, bracelets, and necklace, and leans forward, with head dropped to one side, clasping her right knee thrown over the other. Her left foot rests on a foot-stool. Behind her a white-haired servant in the usual costume holds her right hand to her chin, and with troubled air gestures with the left hand as she speaks to her mistress. A large Eros with immense wings flies down towards the latter with a taenia in his hands. There are, further, two other groups of two each. The one before the _kline_ is two females again. An attendant, distinguished by her hood, who holds a fan in her right hand, talks and gestures earnestly before the other, who wears the simple Doric peplos, ungirdled, and stands with her back to the _kline_ in a disturbed and troubled sort of mood. The remaining group of two, a pedagogue in the customary dress and a female figure similar to the one on the extreme left, is also concerned over some important matter which the pedagogue is telling. Certain articles hang on the wall.

The picture has been interpreted as representing Phaidra in the presence of the chorus, and depending upon _Hippolytos_ vs. 267 ff. The right-hand group would then be very loosely connected with the rest. In so far as the love-sickness of Phaidra is concerned this appears to me a correct interpretation, but that the chorus is in any way represented by the other figures is entirely out of the question. The whole affair is supposed to be in Phaidra’s apartments, to which at no time the Troizenian women had access. What would they be doing by the _kline_[188]? The pedagogue is added on one side, as though to indicate how the news is spreading among the domestics[189].

But let me turn for a moment to another class of monuments that help to a better understanding of the scene. There are no less than seventeen reliefs on the long side of Roman sarcophagi which are practically intact and furnish from two to three scenes of the tragedy. Less frequently the ends contain one or two other groups supplementing the front side[190]. There are four moments that are distinctly traceable. (1) The love-sick Phaidra sits on a chair in her apartments surrounded by the old nurse and other servants, who attempt to comfort her. She wears a veil as on the vase painting, and on two reliefs one of the attendants is removing this[191]. The diadem is also distinguishable. (2) The nurse makes her declaration to Hippolytos, who turns away from her. (3) Hippolytos with his followers is about to start upon, or is already engaged in, the hunt. (4) The horses run away and bring him to his death. All four scenes occur on the famous sarcophagus in Girgenti[192], and on another in St. Petersburg[193]. It will be observed that in three of the four groups Hippolytos himself is present, and one naturally looks for him in scenes taken from the tragedy where he is the main figure. The earliest scene in Euripides which develops the hopeless state of affairs with Phaidra is, however, of prime importance next to the death of Hippolytos.

But a brief comparison of the left-hand group of our painting and the Phaidra scene on these reliefs is necessary, in order to reveal a striking resemblance in the compositions. The one difference rests in the size of the groups; the painter has confined himself to fewer figures. This fact, however, is of little importance. A closer examination of the two discloses much that points to a common source. On nearly all the reliefs Phaidra’s chair has, as in the painting, no back or arms; Eros, who flies towards Phaidra in fig. 14, invariably stands beside her on the sarcophagi, looking up into her sad face, or, what is still worse, aims an arrow at her[194]. The queen wears in all cases the veil, and often on the reliefs the diadem likewise[195]. The nurse never fails in her ministry.

It is time now to look more closely at the tragedy. After the prologue by Aphrodite, Hippolytos and his followers enter and pay their homage to Artemis. The hero lays a wreath upon her statue, which adorned one side of the entrance to Pittheus’ palace. The attendants are ordered inside and he then withdraws. His servant remains long enough to address a prayer to Aphrodite’s image on the other side of the stage. Following is the parodos in which the chorus relates what had been learned concerning the illness of Phaidra. Among other things they hear that she sits

... λεπτὰ δὲ φάρη ξανθὰν κεφαλὰν σκιάζειν. v. 133 f.

This, it will be observed, corresponds to her position in the painting and in the reliefs. It is just this time of abstinence and mourning, spent in the palace surrounded by the faithful old nurse and other servants, which suggested the scene on the reliefs and on the vase. The visitations of Eros serve well to bring into objectivity the real cause of Phaidra’s illness, and to render the poet more plain. To be sure this all took place in her apartments, ἐντὸς οἴκων (v. 132), and could therefore be worked out according to the artist’s fancy. A long and animated scene ensues, in which Phaidra utters strange expressions that betray the sadness of her condition. The trophos finally coaxes the secret from her, and the chorus dips in from time to time as a sort of second to the nurse. The interview which the latter has with Hippolytos, vs. 601–668, is overheard by Phaidra. Her unrequited love bears her down and she leaves the stage determined to die (v. 731), and in a few moments is announced as dead[196].

The scenes on the sarcophagi representing Hippolytos’ hunt, the counterpart of Phaidra’s illness, and the trophos’ proposal[197] to the hero do not appear on vases.

Hippolytos’ ride to death, the terrible _finale_ of the tragedy, appears on an Apulian krater also in the British Museum[198]. The painting falls into an upper and lower section. In the latter, Hippolytos dashes along in his chariot; the four horses are not in any apparent disorder although the next moment must be fatal, for just before them the sea-monster rises into view, and a Fury with a flaming torch and serpents wound about her arms runs into their course. A pedagogue hurries along from the rear, extending his left hand, warning Hippolytos of his danger. The scene is viewed by five divinities. Their positions are the stereotyped ones of the Apulian vases, and their connexion with the tragedy before them need not be intimate[199]. Athena in the middle, a great favourite in these groups, leans on her shield and carries a lance and in her right hand the helmet. Apollo, distinguished by bow, laurel bough, and wreath in the hair, sits on her right, facing Pan who stands half reversed to the beholder with the syrinx in the right hand, and resting his left elbow on a rock. On Athena’s left sits Aphrodite, attended by a large Eros, who extends a kylix to Poseidon sitting on the right, holding the trident. There is certainly ample reason for the presence of the last two gods at the death of Hippolytos; they are, in fact, very instrumental in bringing about the catastrophe. I am not able to assign any satisfactory reason for the appearance of Athena, Apollo, and Pan. Mere speculation concerning the choice of these deities cannot be of much value. Artemis is surely indispensable in a group of gods concerned with Hippolytos’ death. Any one who knows these groups on the vases of Lower Italy is aware that Athena is a great favourite and often appears, as here, merely because she was so admired. Perhaps Apollo is intended to represent Artemis, but it is not likely that the artist thought so far[200].

In regard to the lower section it may be observed first that the district is not denoted in any way as being the sea-shore where Euripides sends the youth for a drive[201]. There is no water indicated, out of which the ταῦρος ἄγριον τέρας[202] is issuing. The mounted companions of Hippolytos are represented only by the pedagogue. The time is that just preceding the breaking away of the horses described by the messenger, vs. 1218 ff. The Fury, a gratuitous addition of the artist, serves to intensify the violence of the death awaiting Hippolytos.

The deplorable end of the hero has never failed to awaken one’s sympathy. The innocent youth dragged to his death through the workings of a hasty and unjust curse presents one of the most pathetic pictures in Greek literature. It is well depicted by Philostratos in the _Imagines_[203]. ‘You see,’ he says, ‘how the horses no longer obey the reins but rush madly along the plain, covered with foam. This one makes for the wild beast, the second rebounds, another rushes for the sea, and the fourth glances fearfully at the ground.’ The breaking and crashing of the chariot are pointed out. Then the companions gallop up and try to manage the horses. The hills near by, sentinels of the disaster, in the form of women, tear their cheeks for grief; the meadows, in the form of boys, allow their flowers to wilt and the nymphs from the springs rend their hair, while water spouts from their breasts. Hippolytos’ limbs are torn and shattered, and his eyes are gouged from their sockets. Pliny tells of a painting by Antiphilus of Alexandria which represented _Hippolytus tauro emisso expavescens_[204], but nothing further is known of Antiphilus or when he lived. The sarcophagi reliefs representing the catastrophe are numerous, compared with those showing any other moment[205]. Not less interesting is the list of Etruscan urns decorated with reliefs showing the bull, the runaway horses, and the _expavescens_ youth[206]. In all of these a female figure, doubtless a Fury, is frightening the horses[207]. In two cases she is winged, and every one carries a torch likewise, as on the vase painting.

§ 6. IPHIGENEIA AT AULIS.

The story of Iphigeneia’s sacrifice appears to have been told first in the _Kypria_, and yet only occasional references are made to it by writers before the fifth century. It was the drama that infused new life into the myth and launched it as one of the most popular ones in the Trojan Cycle. Each of the three great tragedians tried his hand at the catastrophe in Aulis. Euripides’ work, the only one surviving, is at least two generations younger than the play of Aischylos, so that the wide popularity of the tragedy in this period is well attested. Among the Roman poets we know that Ennius, at least, wrote a version of the tragedy. Although it is known that this poet had a special predilection for Euripides, and for the most part translated or adapted the latter’s plays, attempts have been made to show that in his _Iphigenia_ Ennius was largely indebted to Sophokles[208]. The few fragments remaining from these three _Iphigeneias_ are, however, inconsiderable, and a clear notion of their relation to each other cannot be reached. The extant work of Euripides is accordingly of great value to us.

In art, likewise, this subject was rarely treated. I know of no Iphigeneia monument earlier than the fifth century. There is a reference in the _Agamemnon_ to the sacrifice as though Aischylos may have seen the scene represented in a painting[209], and granted that the poet really had such a work in mind this becomes the earliest date for Iphigeneia in art. The earliest monument of which we possess any authentic record is the famous painting of Timanthes, who was a contemporary of Zeuxis and Parrhasios[210]. This date, however, does not carry one beyond the last years of the fifth century B.C.—an altogether late date for an art representation of a myth, which, from Aischylos’ time at least, was widely known. We have reason to believe that Timanthes’ work was suggested by Euripides’ tragedy. The latter was first produced in Athens after the poet’s death, not earlier than 405 B.C., and this requires that the painting be placed near the end of the century, which many are unwilling to admit; it is, however, more a matter of opinion than proof. Traces of this celebrated picture are very probably at hand in the well-known Pompeian wall painting[211], and the Uffizi altar[212]. The composition of the latter has much in common with such fifth-century products as the Orpheus and Peliades reliefs[213]. The Etruscan urns on the other hand furnish a wealth of reliefs representing the sacrifice, rarely surpassed in this class of monuments. Numbers have come to light in the neighbourhood of Perugia especially[214]. Two groups are easily distinguishable, (1) Iphigeneia, as a little girl, is held over the altar by Odysseus, while Agamemnon goes through the ἀπαρχαί. (2) The first group is extended by (_a_) Klytaimestra on the side of Agamemnon, and (_b_) Achilles on the side of Odysseus, each begging for mercy and the life of Iphigeneia. This is all non-Euripidean, and Schlie has attempted to point out that the reliefs owe their origin to Ennius’ play which combined Sophoklean and Euripidean elements[215].

There is no vase painting which can be claimed for this scene in its Euripidean character, but the whole play is the basis of a relief on a ‘Megarian’ cup, and the illustration is so valuable for the proper appreciation of the tragedy that I do not hesitate to include this little monument. The cup furnishes inscriptional evidence not only for the _dramatis personae_ but for the literary source as well, and is, therefore, a _unicum_ among the monuments that are based upon Euripides. The cut given in fig. 16 is of the vase in Berlin[216]. It should be observed, however, that there are two other copies of this same work, and that they tell exactly the same story from the _Iphigeneia_[217]. A word is necessary in order to prepare us for the first scene given. Agamemnon had sent a message to Argos summoning Iphigeneia, and, in spite of his attempt to countermand this by a secret letter to Klytaimestra, he was forced to face the results of his earlier resolve. His daughter came, and accompanying her were her mother and her young brother Orestes. The nuptials were to be celebrated with the son of Peleus, and the Argive party in gayest, happiest mood halted before the tent of Agamemnon. The Chalkian women, who through curiosity had crossed the Euripos to see the gathered hosts of the Greeks, are ready at hand to assist Iphigeneia in alighting from the chariot. The lad Orestes, who appears to have gone to sleep during the journey, is awakened and lifted down by one of the kindly strangers. With her mother’s permission, Iphigeneia hastens inside to meet her father[218]—she, innocently happy over the arrival of her wedding day—he, overcome with grief at her impending death, and smitten with remorse at the enormity of his crime.

This much renders plain the group on the right. Agamemnon, ΑΓΑΜΕΜΝΩΝ, sits upon his θρόνος with one foot on a foot-rest; his right hand is placed to his temple as though to shut out the gaze of Iphigeneia, ΙΦΙΓΕΝΕΙΑ, who approaches him in a beseeching manner with extended arms. The group is based upon vs. 644 ff.—

Iph. ἔα· ὡς οὐ βλέπεις ἕκηλον, ἄσμενος μ’ ἰδών.

Aga. πόλλ’ ἀνδρὶ βασιλεῖ καὶ στρατηλάτῃ μέλει.

· · · · ·

Iph. μέθες νυν ὀφρὺν ὄμμα τ’ ἔκτεινον φίλον.

· · · · ·

κἄπειτα λείβεις δάκρυ’ ἀπ’ ὀμμάτων σέθεν;

Such is the situation described by the poet, and surely the artist has succeeded to a considerable degree in grasping the meaning of the scene. Klytaimestra, ΚΛΥΤΑΙΜΗΣΤΡΑ[219], appears on the left with Orestes, ΟΡΕΣΤΗΣ, and would seem to have had the boy in charge after he was helped from the chariot (vs. 621 f.). Following is the inscription, ΕΥΡ[ΙΠΙΔΟΥ] ΙΦΙΓΕΝΕΙΑΣ. The genitive case in the last word may depend upon some such word as τύποι. To avoid a possible misunderstanding of the scenes, even with the characters named each time, the artist considered it advisable to add the literary source. This is the _Iphigeneia of Euripides_ and not of any other poet.

After Iphigeneia leaves her father he endeavours to persuade Klytaimestra to return to Argos and leave the final arrangements for the nuptials in his charge. Naturally enough she refuses, and retires to appear at v. 819, where she meets Achilles and enthusiastically brings up the subject of the marriage. Achilles, amazed at the disclosure, assures the queen that he has neither wooed Iphigeneia nor heard aught from the Atreidai concerning any such an alliance. This scene is represented in the next group. Achilles, ΑΧΙΛΛΕΥΣ, bends toward Klytaimestra and gestures emphatically. The latter holds her hand to her chin and is evidently dumbfounded by the declarations. The last words exchanged before the two separate are suggestive—

Ach. ἴσως ἐκερτόμησε κἀμὲ καὶ σέ τις, ἀλλ’ ἀμελίᾳ δὸς αὐτὰ καὶ φαύλως φέρε.

Kly. χαῖρ’· οὐ γὰρ ὀρθοῖς ὄμμασίν ς’ ἔτ’ εἰσορῶ, ψευδὴς γενομένη καὶ παθοῦς’ ἀνάξια.

Ach. καὶ σοὶ τόδ’ ἐστὶν ἐξ ἐμοῦ· πόσιν δὲ σὸν στείχω ματεύσων τῶνδε δωμάτων ἔσω. vs. 849–854.

Immediately after these words the faithful old servant of Agamemnon comes out and relates to Klytaimestra that Iphigeneia is to be slain by her father; he goes further and tells the cause of it all, and how he had failed to get away to Argos with the letter. This meeting of the servant, ΠΡΕΣΣΒΥΣ, and the queen, is dramatically told in the third group. The former wears the costume of a pedagogue, with peculiar-looking boots. The latter has laid aside the veil which she wears in all the other scenes.

The following groups on the relief reverse the order of the text, so it is best to consider first that on the extreme left. Agamemnon, Klytaimestra, and Iphigeneia are all named. The young Orestes pulls at his father’s chiton; the latter has a mantle over his head, and shields his face with his left hand. The mother has turned aside and is consumed with her deep sorrow. She had won the sympathy of Achilles after the talk with the old servant, vs. 896–1035, and following the choral song appears again to seek Agamemnon whom neither she nor Iphigeneia had seen since the terrible truth of the marriage was disclosed. She calls her daughter from the house, v. 1117, and bids her

λαβοῦς’ Ὀρέστην σὸν κασίγνητον, τέκνον.

All of these figures occur on the cup, so that in a certain sense the whole scene from v. 1122 to v. 1275 is illustrated. The position of Klytaimestra and Iphigeneia would, however, lead one to think that the latter’s long appeal was particularly in the mind of the artist. She recounts in words, as eloquent as they are pathetic, the promises her father had once made to her as a child, and goes over all the ambitions that had filled her girlish heart in the happy Argive home.

βλέψον πρὸς ἡμᾶς, ὄμμα δὸς φίλημά τε, ἵν’ ἀλλὰ τοῦτο κατθανοῦς’ ἔχω σέθεν μνημεῖον, εἰ μὴ τοῖς ἐμοῖς πείθει λόγοις. ἀδελφέ, μικρὸς μὲν σύ γ’ ἐπίκουρος φίλοις, ὅμως δὲ συνδάκρυσον, ἱκέτευσον πατρὸς τὴν σὴν ἀδελφὴν μὴ θανεῖν· αἴσθημά τοι κἀν νηπίοις γε τῶν κακῶν ἐγγίγνεται. ἰδοὺ σιωπῶν λίσσεταί ς’ ὅδ’, ὦ πάτερ. ἀλλ’ αἴδεσαί με καὶ κατοίκτειρον βίον. ναί, πρὸς γενείου ς’ ἀντόμεσθα δύο φίλω· ὁ μὲν νεοσσός ἐστιν, ἡ δ’ ηὐξημένη. vs. 1238–1248.

There is certainly inspiration enough in these verses for a more pretentious group than the simple terra cotta cup presents, but lacking all other Greek monuments bearing upon this scene one may prize this witness as a valuable inheritance from the Hellenistic period. Agamemnon speaks; he loves his child and realizes full well the meaning of the sacrifice, but he must obey the clamourings of the Greeks.

Iphigeneia and her mother remain alone with the chorus and bewail the bitterness of their sorrow, vs. 1276–1345, when a company of men is observed approaching. Among them is Achilles. His attempt to intercede in behalf of the doomed Iphigeneia had been of no avail. The Achaeans were inexorable; her blood must be spilt. Nevertheless he promises them his assistance, and encourages Klytaimestra to resist Odysseus and the others who come to drag her daughter away to the altar, vs. 1338–1433. The early part of this scene is recognizable in the remaining group.

Iph. διαχαλᾶτέ μοι μέλαθρα, δμῶες, ὡς κρύψω δέμας.

Kly. τί δέ, τέκνον φεύγεις;

Iph. Ἀχιλλέα τόνδ’ ἰδεῖν αἰσχύνομαι.

Kly. ὁς τί δέ;

Iph. τὸ δυστυχές μοι τῶν γάμων αἰδῶ φέρει.

Kly. οὐκ ἐν ἁβρότητι κεῖσαι πρὸς τὰ νῦν πεπτωκότα. ἀλλὰ μίμν’· οὐ σεμνότητος ἔργον, ἢν δυνώμεθα.

Ach. ὦ γύναι τάλαινα, Λήδας θύγατερ. vs. 1340–1345.

Achilles stands with staff in hand, either about to address the mother or perhaps having uttered the last verse above. Iphigeneia turns with bowed head to avoid his presence; her mother evidently tries to detain her. Inscriptions again indicate who the persons are. We have then precisely the situation in the lines quoted.

The sacrifice which followed, was attended by the marvellous wonder, and it was to be expected that if any _one_ incident of the tragedy was told in art it would be the scene at the altar. Our little monument curiously enough stops where _all_ the others begin. We are taken step by step up to the final act and there we are left. The works enumerated above[220] are, without exception, confined to the moment of the sacrifice. The famous wall painting and the Florence altar have much in common with the renowned painting of Timanthes, and all three are conceived in the spirit of Euripides as far as the actions of Agamemnon are concerned.

... ὡς δ’ ἐσεῖδεν Ἀγαμέμνων ἄναξ ἐπὶ σφαγὰς στείχουσαν εὶς ἄλσος κόρην, ἀνεστέναζε, κἄμπαλιν στρέψας κάρα δάκρυα προῆγεν, ὀμμάτων πέπλον προθείς. vs. 1547 ff.

And so he stands completely wrapped in his mantle, exposing no part of his face. In this invention lay the unsurpassed success which Timanthes enjoyed with his painting. The dates for this artist allow us to place the work subsequent to the production of the _Iphigeneia_ in 405 B.C., and credit Euripides with influencing Timanthes. This is at least possible, but does not admit of proof. It appears to me very likely that all three of these works are more or less closely connected with each other and with Euripides. The Etruscan ash-urns on the other hand, as well as the vase painting in the British Museum[221], follow a totally different version of the story. In these cases Agamemnon himself takes the part of the priest in the ceremony, and performs the ἀπαρχαί. So far from being the tender-hearted father who cannot even stand and watch the offering, he draws the fatal knife or pours the sacrificial liquid upon the victim’s head. Traces of this turn are found early in tragedy[222], but this is an Agamemnon with a far different heart from the one we follow in the _Iphigeneia_ of Euripides. Even though the part from v. 1532 till the close of the play be thrown out as an interpolation, the character of Agamemnon in the first 1500 verses could not have changed so suddenly at the end that he would have taken the place of Kalchas at the altar. This set of monuments does not, therefore, give us the Euripidean spirit.

§ 7. IPHIGENEIA AMONG THE TAURIANS.

Euripides in all probability created in the life of Iphigeneia the chapter concerning her return to Greece with Orestes. There is at any rate no trace of this turn in preceding authors. Homer does not appear to have known any such a daughter of Agamemnon, unless one is to seek to identify Iphigeneia with Iphianassa. The ‘king of men’ speaks of

Χρυσόθεμις καὶ Λαοδίκη καὶ Ιφιάνασσα. _Il._ 9. 145.

as his three daughters. We know, however, from Sophokles[223] that Iphianassa was distinguished from Iphigeneia. Since Homer has not even her name there is no allusion to the catastrophe at Aulis. It is first in the _Kypria_[224], a work usually accredited to Stasinos in the early part of the eighth century B.C., that reference is made to the gathered hosts at Aulis, the calm, the sacrifice. It was not Iphigeneia, however, who was the victim, for Artemis had suddenly intervened and, having taken her away to the Black Sea country, had blessed her with immortality. From this date then the myth may have been widely spread among the Greeks. Hesiod related in his Κατάλογος γυναικῶν that Iphigeneia had received the gift of immortality from Artemis, thus following closely the author of the _Kypria_[225]. Herodotos also repeats the same story[226]. One looks in vain for any trace of her delivery from this wild people, until the latter part of Euripides’ life. Then it is that new light breaks in upon the old orthodox form of the myth: the mortal side of Iphigeneia is made to assume a new interest for the world, and she, who had been long lost amidst a wild, barbarous people, is suddenly restored to her only hope, Orestes. This is the work of ‘Euripides, the human, with his droppings of warm tears.’ With this tragedy the poet created at once a definite chapter in dramatic literature and furnished another impetus for ancient art.

There are traces of two other Greek tragedies dealing with this same subject; yet the play of Timestheos is a mere name[227], while that of Polyeidos is but little more. Aristotle, however, has given a certain prominence to the latter work by making two references to it in his _Poetics_[228]. This differed from the play of Euripides particularly in the recognition scene. The ἀναγνώρισις was brought about by Orestes using the words ‘and shall I too be sacrificed?’ Who but Orestes was likely to know aught of the attempt once made to sacrifice her at Aulis? It is worthy of note that the _libretto_ of Glück’s opera also follows this manner of the _dénouement_. Among the Latin dramatists we hear that Naevius wrote a play called _Iphigenia_. One verse only is preserved[229]. It goes without saying that the tragedy was taken from the Greek, but from what author it is worthless to conjecture. The _Dolorestes_ of Pacuvius was long thought to deal with the same subject, but this has been shown to be of an entirely different character. It is altogether improbable that these Latin versions worked any radical change in the Euripidean form of the myth. It is true that the story was remodelled in some particulars; Hyginus, e.g. in _fabula_ 261, relates that the bones of Orestes had been brought from Aricia to Rome and had been interred before the temple of Saturn! Such a violent contortion of the myth may be laid to the credit of a poet[230], but I would prefer to recognize in the words of Hyginus the influence of the mythological handbooks which were written up in a manner well calculated to pamper the national pride of the Romans.

In no work written subsequent to Euripides is it possible to detect the sources for the representations of the myth in art; in all cases the poet of the fifth century B.C. can be shown to have wielded his absolute power. We shall see in the discussion of the vase paintings based upon the play that this class of monuments is not the only one in which the new Iphigeneia found her place. The Etruscan urns and mirrors, the wall paintings of Pompeii and of Herculaneum, the Roman sarcophagi, as well as pastes and gems, all furnish an extensive field in which parallel scenes may be traced.

This introduces the consideration of the vases and their relation to the tragedy. They fall readily into three classes corresponding to three well-defined stages in the play: 1. Orestes and Pylades alone upon the Taurian coast are surprised, and led by the shepherds to the king and Iphigeneia (vs. 67–466). 2. The scene following, in which it is determined that not both shall be killed, but that one, and he Pylades, shall be allowed to return to Mykenai, bearing a message from Iphigeneia (vs. 467–724). 3. The handing over of the letter and the accompanying explanation, whereby Orestes and his sister recognize each other (vs. 725–1088). There follow two other well-defined scenes which are not traceable on vases[231]. 4. The escape with the Artemis idol (vs. 1152–1233), and 5. the messenger’s speech which relates the manner of the escape.

There is but one vase painting that can be assigned to the first step in the play. The painting is a thoroughly ugly and, from an artistic standpoint, worthless specimen that represents the very decadence of ceramic art[232]. The vase is a slender amphora with three zones of pictures; ours is the middle one. On the left a woman in chiton and mantle sits with head turned to the right, her left hand resting on a sceptre or staff and her right on her knee. She wears a necklace and on one arm a bracelet. Standing before her with outstretched right hand is a bearded male figure in short chiton and mantle, and a spear in his left; he has just arrived, as one may conclude from the position of his feet. Immediately following are two youths entirely naked, hands pinioned behind their backs. The ends of the ropes seem to be held by the group of three youths following, who are dressed as the first male figure except that two of them wear boots. Their attention, like that of all, is directed towards the female figure.

The arrest of Orestes and Pylades is given here, and more definitely their appearance before Iphigeneia. To be sure the manner is entirely different from that on other monuments. One expects Iphigeneia to be in or near the temple of Artemis and to be represented in a more concerned and active attitude; and furthermore, one looks for the altar (v. 72), and some indication of the fate which awaits the captives. All these features are wanting. That the artist endeavoured to represent the meeting of the priestess and the two Greeks can, however, admit of no doubt; that the necessary setting of the scene was omitted need be no more a matter of surprise to one than the helpless workmanship of the whole. The monument is valuable as being the only vase painting showing the first scene, which is never wanting on the sarcophagi[233]. This moment occurs likewise on certain other monuments[234]. The shepherd relates (vs. 260–339) how the discovery and capture were made; how they learned that one of the two was named Pylades; and further that the prisoners had been conducted first to the king, who after glancing at them (ἐσιδών) sent them to Artemis and her priestess. Iphigeneia says to the boukolos in v. 342, σὺ μὲν κόμιζε τοὺς ξένους μολών, and in v. 467, after her soliloquy and the song of the chorus, she appears again on the stage where she meets the captives. This is the moment, very largely modified, which the painting represents. Iphigeneia’s first words are—

μέθετε τῶν ξένων χέρας, ὡς ὄντες ἱεροὶ μηκέτ’ ὦσι δέσμιοι.

At this the guards are commanded to enter the temple and make ready for the offering. Our picture follows in one respect the traditional manner of representing the scene. Orestes and Pylades are invariably nude, or so lightly clad with the chlamys that they are practically naked. There is the closest analogy between them as they appear here and as they occur on the sarcophagi.

The second moment, as I have marked it out above, is also represented on one vase only[235]. In the centre Orestes, ΟΡΕΣΤΑΣ, sits to the right upon a large altar, chlamys about his hips, sword on his left side, hands supported upon his stick towards which his head is sunk. The whole attitude betokens sorrow. On the right is Iphigeneia wearing long, sleeved chiton, and mantle, necklace, and bracelets. In her left hand close by her side (incorrectly published as a knife) is the temple key which is emblematic of her office as κλῃδοῦχος[236]. Her right is extended towards Orestes, with whom she is speaking. She is accompanied by a temple servant who, entirely wrapped in chiton and mantle, carries in her right an oinochoë and upon her head a dish in which are articles for the sacrifice, including the branches for sprinkling. Behind Orestes is a laurel tree and on his right Pylades, ΠΥΛΑΔΗΣ, standing with one foot thrown over the other, his right hand placed sorrowfully to his head. The left rests upon his staff. On his left side is a sword. He is deeply concerned in the conversation. Above on the right behind a _terrain_ is the temple of Artemis, Ionic order, and akroteria. Beside it on the left, Artemis, distinguished by her huntress-mantle, two spears, and hair-dress, sits with face to the left towards Apollo who is the remaining figure on the vase. He wears a garment around his waist, and rests his right upon a cane and turns his face towards Artemis.

The vase is especially interesting as being the only one on which any of the characters is accompanied by an inscription, and secondly, because Orestes sits here upon the altar. He cannot be thought of as a victim, and I do not believe he has fled to the altar for refuge, as has been suggested. That would comport but poorly with the spirit which he exhibits throughout the interview. Where does Orestes sit passively upon an altar at the attack of the Furies? He invariably has his sword drawn in a very emphatic manner, and while he crouches upon or clings to the altar he never gives any appearance of being an easy victim to his pursuers[237]. Just this point it is necessary to emphasize, for had the artist felt that the meaning of Orestes’ position indicated his pursuit either by seen or unseen Furies, he never would have committed the egregious error of placing him in a calm attitude quite unconscious that he has a _sword ready at his side_. Furthermore there is no trace in Euripides or the painting to allow us to assume that Orestes is again pursued at this point. He is not, therefore, in any sense a suppliant. The vase painter has simply allowed himself a great liberty in seating his figure where we should least expect to find him. An altar is not by any means a usual seat, and much less for the victim[238]. This same freedom in disposing of details led the decorator still further from the established usage, for neither of the captives should be allowed their swords. They are already ἱεροί (v. 469) and should be represented accordingly. In these particulars we must acknowledge that the painter idealized the scene (vs. 472 ff.).

If it were necessary to determine upon any one moment which the artist had in mind, one would discover a close parallel between vs. 625 ff. and the present scene. It has been agreed that Pylades shall be the messenger; Orestes is to die in his stead. The latter proceeds to ask who shall perform the sacrificial act, and whether a tomb shall receive him when all is over. To this Iphigeneia replies—

πῦρ ἱερὸν ἔνδον χάσμα τ’ εὐρωπὸν πέτρας.

and Orestes—

φεῦ· πῶς ἄν μ’ ἀδελφῆς χεὶρ περιστείλειεν ἄν;

to which Iphigeneia remarks,

μάταιον εὐχήν, ὦ τάλας, ὅστις ποτ’ εἶ, ηὔξω.

I can conceive of no more pitiable and hopeless condition than that of the unfortunate Orestes which the poet depicts. At this point his course seemed all in vain; Apollo’s promise appeared to be a farce, and Heaven and Earth seemed wrought into one violent confusion (cf. vs. 572 f. and 711). Perhaps it was at this juncture that he most impressed the painter, and we may see the wretched Orestes prostrate upon the altar in this moment of extreme despair.

Artemis and Apollo take no part in the action, but there is a greater fitness in their position as spectators than is often the case with the gods on the vases of Lower Italy. The former is a natural figure in her own precinct, by her own temple, while Apollo, as her brother, properly balances the scene. The latter, moreover, stands in so close a relation to Orestes’ trial and delivery that he is a most appropriate beholder of the progress of this his own enterprise (cf. v. 977).

Mention should be made here of the sarcophagi, on which essentially the same scene is found. The agreement with our vase is striking[239]. Orestes sits with his head wrapped in his mantle and drooping on his lap, while Pylades stands before him, always in the same attitude, one leg thrown over the other, one hand clutching his hair and the other resting on his stick. This is a striking coincidence, indeed, in these two classes of monuments, separated by at least four hundred years.

In the third step of the tragedy we are more fortunate and possess among vase paintings at least three that represent the transmission of the letter to Pylades, and the accompanying recognition between Orestes and his sister. It is not surprising that the supreme moment in the action should have attracted the artists, and that on the sarcophagi[240] also this unique point in Greek tragedy should have been represented[241].

1. The best known of the vases is an amphora formerly in the possession of the Duke of Buckingham[242]. In front of the temple of Artemis, Doric order, stands Iphigeneia, _en face_, in richly embroidered chiton, and high head-dress from which falls a sort of veil reaching to the knees. She wears necklace, bracelets, earrings, and sandals; her costume bespeaks in every respect that of the theatre. She carries again the token of her office in the left, and hands the letter to Pylades with the right, who stands ready for the journey, wearing chlamys, pilos, boots, and carrying two spears. Further, on the left, leaning against the περιρῥαντήριον is Orestes, _en face_, but with laurel-wreathed head turned towards Pylades; his right leg is thrown over the left. He wears a chlamys, and carries two spears and a sword. Beside Iphigeneia is her servant, as in fig. 18, but with a simple girdled chiton, and in her right the dish with articles for the altar which is represented in poor perspective behind Iphigeneia. Above, on the right, before the temple doors, is Artemis in short, huntress-costume and high Thracian boots; two spears in her left, and a burning torch in her right. She wears the Thracian cap. On the left of the temple behind a _terrain_ is a young satyr, no doubt thrown in to fill up the space.

2. The largest painting representing this scene is that on an amphora in St. Petersburg[243]. The centre of the picture is taken up by the temple, four Ionic columns. Inside on the right is the Artemis statue, costumed like Artemis in fig. 19; a burning torch in the right, around which is bound a sort of decoration. It is on a large pedestal, and has in the left a spear. On the left, about to leave the temple, is Iphigeneia with an elegant chiton, mantle, a diadem in hair, and the peculiar key in her left; beside her, and leaning against the wall, is a kylix with long handle. She makes a gesture towards Pylades with her right in which there is no letter. He stands on the left by the temple, leaning against his knotty stick; has petasos on the back of the neck, and wears high boots and an escaping chlamys. On the left, lower down, Orestes leans on the περιρῥαντήριον, as in fig. 19, but he is evidently more dejected here. The rest of the painting, which consists of five groups of two figures each, has so little to do with the central scene that we may omit any description of it. In the upper zone on the right are Hermes and Artemis, on the left Athena and Nike. Athena will observe the final part of the affair in which she was so deeply interested in Athens. The two groups, a female and an armed Thracian, represent the common ‘love-scenes’ on this class of vases. For the third group on the right, the artist preferred to draw a young deer instead of the female figure. Stephani[244] is correct in calling these ‘love-scenes,’ and so separating them permanently from any part in the action. Countless such groups are thrown upon vases of this style as meaningless, decorative figures. The parasol, wreaths, and vessels serve to enrich the setting and add charm to the coquetry.

3. A vase, formerly in the possession of the art dealer Barone in Naples, shows an abridgement of the scene[245]. In an Ionic temple, four columns, and akroteria, Iphigeneia, _en face_, long chiton, mantle, hair done in a knot behind, leans with her left elbow upon the βρέτας. In her left is the temple attribute, and in the right the letter which she extends to Pylades, in chlamys and petasos. He leans against his stick, and has a sword in the left, while he points with the right towards the letter. On the right are Apollo and Artemis. The former, nude except for a mantle and high boots, grasps the laurel tree with his left, and rests his right upon Artemis’ shoulder, who sits to the left upon the altar and looks up to Apollo. She is dressed as usual with short chiton and high boots. She has two spears in the left.

In setting these three paintings over against each other and comparing the elements in them, the uniformity is very striking. Perhaps the details may be clearer if placed in a sort of scheme.

_a._ Elements common to all three vases.

1. Temple of Artemis. 2. Iphigeneia in elaborate dress, indicated as the κλῃδοῦχος. 3. A youth in travelling costume, with whom she is talking. 4. Artemis on the _right_ of the temple.

_b._ Elements common to two of the three vases.

1. In figs. 19 and 20 a youth leans against the περιρῥαντήριον, resting on one leg over which the other is thrown. 2. In figs. 19 and 21 Iphigeneia hands the letter to the youth. 3. The Artemis ἄγαλμα is in the temple in figs. 20 and 21; so also is Iphigeneia.

We thus observe that the remarkable agreement, even in the details, shows that they must all be copies more or less exact of one and the same original. That Iphigeneia in fig. 20 does not hold the letter in her hand may be accredited to the carelessness of the artist who merely forgot to paint it. The same may be said with regard to the abridged form of the scene in fig. 21, where Orestes has been left out. The two central figures appeared to the artist to be the important part of the original, and accordingly he omitted all else.

Immediately following the scene represented in fig. 18, Iphigeneia entered the temple to get the letter—

ἀλλ’ εἶμι, δέλτον τ’ ἐκ θεᾶς ανακτόρων οἴσω. v. 636 f.

and ordered the guards to watch the two without binding them. Thereafter ensues the touching scene between Orestes and Pylades (vs. 657–724). The priestess then reappears, and commanding the attendants to go inside, continues—

δέλτου μὲν αἵδε πολύθυροι διαπτυχαί, ξένοι, πάρεισιν· ἃ δ’ ἐπὶ τοῖσδε βούλομαι, ἀκούσατ’.

Orestes speaks first after these lines and asks her what she wishes. It shall be an oath for the safe delivery of the letter. At this he demands a counter-oath from her for the safe withdrawal of Pylades from the country. We may imagine that during the delivery of these verses, which were probably spoken while Iphigeneia was still in the temple doorway, Pylades had approached her to receive the letter, while Orestes stepped to one side as he appears in figs. 19 and 20. In vs. 769–787 the contents of the letter are related to ensure safe transfer of the message, even though the written words be lost in a shipwreck. This is the time represented on our vases. The hopelessness of Orestes requires, moreover, the earlier part of the scene, since from v. 772 he begins to be aroused and to prove his brotherhood to Iphigeneia. The αναγνώρισις is complete at the close of v. 826, and there follow the fourth and fifth stages which were noticed above[246]. Neither of these movements is, so far as I am aware, shown on any vase painting, although they are an important part of the reliefs on the Roman sarcophagi[247].

In conclusion, mention should be made of the wall paintings which represent the departure of the three with the statue to purify it in the sea. The first and most important of these is the fine _casa del citarista_ painting[248]. Robert first correctly recognized the right meaning of this beautiful monument and based it upon the poet[249], thereby bringing it into harmony with the sarcophagi. That he was happily correct in reading the time in the painting _after the recognition_, contrary to Helbig’s interpretation[250], is nicely borne out by the painting recently discovered in the _casa dei Vettii_[251], which is another copy of the same original[252]. The variations are, however, enough to render any misunderstanding of it impossible. Here there is no temple, and Iphigeneia occupies the centre between Orestes and Pylades on the left, and Thoas on the right. She carries plainly the temple βρέτας on the left shoulder. Furthermore, the unconcerned attitude of the two prisoners in their _tête-à-tête_ points clearly to the proper significance of the scene. Curiously enough Orestes appears to sit on the altar here as on the vase painting, fig. 18.

§ 8. KYKLOPS.

The satyr dance, the earliest form of the Greek drama and the simple beginning from which the immense superstructure of tragedy took its start, continued, in the satyr composition which followed the regular trilogy, to remind the public of the original plan and tendency of the performances in honour of Dionysos[253]. Till late in the fourth century B.C., at least, this echo of the original Dionysiac festival remained in vogue. The _Kyklops_ of Euripides is the only example of this sort of composition which has reached us, and although the present work is concerned with tragedy and vase paintings I cannot refrain from including here a painting that is under the influence of this unique relic of Greek literature. The connexion between the satyr-play and tragedy is certainly intimate enough to warrant the introduction of the present chapter.

Every one is acquainted with the story of Odysseus’ adventure with the Kyklops Polyphemos. Since the author of the _Odyssey_ threw a charm around the story, this event in the wanderings of the hero has remained one of the most popular. In early Greek art there are numerous monuments based upon the myth. The black figured vases represent two critical moments. 1. The blinding of Polyphemos. 2. The escape of Odysseus and his companion from the cave. A long list of paintings tells this story over and over again, with little variation[254]. The artists evidently became tired of the monotony of the subject, for it is practically dead at the beginning of the fifth century. There was nothing new in the tale; it was distinctly epic, and for this very reason had its day and gave way to new motives in the dramatic literature. At the end of the century there was a revival of the myth. It gained a new lease of life through the _Kyklops_ of Euripides, and once again all eyes were turned towards the old Homeric fiction. When the poet introduces Seilenos and his company of satyrs as slaves to Polyphemos, and turns the fortunes of Odysseus, on his arrival at the cave, by the intervention of this new element, the artist had certainly a new incentive. The rollicking, lusty antics of the tribe of satyrs had ever been the red figured vase painter’s delight, and when Euripides connected them with the adventures of Odysseus and the Kyklops the old story was ingrafted with a vigorous shoot[255]. Timanthes, whom we have already met[256], very likely owed it to Euripides that he associated Polyphemos with satyrs[257]. An interesting vase painting, which may be dated _cir._ 410 B.C., bears strong testimony to the influence of the _Kyklops_ in Lower Italy[258].

The picture appears in fig. 22. In the foreground Polyphemos lies stretched out in his drunken stupour[259]; beside him is a stump on which hangs an empty wineskin, and on the ground a bowl. In the centre three youths, the middle one wearing a pilos, are busy tugging at a log. Two others on the left bring fire-wood to kindle the large stick[260]; another youth, probably Odysseus, in pilos and chlamys, directs the work from the opposite side. Two bearded satyrs, with the usual horse-tails, caper around on the right[261].

The whole painting breathes with the spirit running through the _Kyklops_. The impression gained by reading the play is remarkably well supported by a study of the former. There is no detailed agreement between the two which strikes one, for the situations in Euripides are not closely followed. There is, however, the same stamp of originality and newness characterizing both. The painting is a revelation to one who has seen only the earlier Homeric monuments.

It may first be noticed that Polyphemos is represented outside of his cave, and that the attack upon his big eye is about to take place. This is quite opposed to Homer and Euripides, yet more than half the charm of the scene lies in the _naïveté_ with which the artist disposes of the giant. A glance at the words of the poet will make this clearer. Odysseus and his chorus of satyrs have fixed upon the means for overcoming the Kyklops. They beg Odysseus for permission to take a hand in preparing the fatal pole;

δεῖ γοῦν· μέγας γὰρ δαλός, ὃν ξυλληπτέον. v. 472.

says the son of Laertes, but when he came to the point where he really needed their help they made every manner of excuse; some were suddenly seized with lameness; others had dust in their eyes. But he knew that it would turn out so, and he relies on his own companions,

... τοῖσι δ’ οἰκείοις φίλοις χρῆσθαί μ’ ἀνάγκη. vs. 650 f.

This is well brought out, whether intentionally or not I do not say, for it is Greeks who are lifting the δαλός, and as for its size every one will agree that it is μέγας. The two satyrs, representing the chorus, dance around lustily the while, having smelt the contents of the wineskin (v. 153 f.). As soon as the plan has been decided upon, Polyphemos appears again, having already sated his appetite on two of the Greeks, and having had at least a taste of the wine. What could prepare one better for the appreciation of the figure on the vase than his own words?

παπαπαῖ, πλέως μὲν οἴνου, γάνυμαι δὲ δαιτὸς ἥβῃ σκάφος ὁλκὰς ὡς γεμισθεὶς ποτὶ σέλμα γαστρὸς ἄκρας. ὑπάγει μ’ ὁ χόρτος εὔφρων ἐπὶ κῶμον ἦρος ὥραις, ἐπὶ Κύκλωπας ἀδελφούς. φέρε μοι, ξεῖνε, φέρ’ ἀσκὸν ἔνδος μοι. vs. 503 ff.

His proposal to go and share his good fortune with the brother Kyklopes does not meet the approval of Odysseus, who bids him keep his good things to himself and enjoy them. Seilenos goes even further and says—

κλίθητί νύν μοι πλεῦρα θεὶς ἐπὶ χθονός. v. 543.

and Polyphemos takes up the suggestion at once, for we hear him ask

τί δῆτα τὸν κρατῆρ’ ὄπισθε μου τίθης; v. 545.

There can be little doubt that these verses particularly interested the artist. Well satisfied with the newly discovered drink, the Kyklops has dropped down upon his side as Seilenos recommended. The ἀσκός, which he ordered extra, hangs beside him and upon the ground is a bowl[262]. Both of these have evidently been drained. The inhuman monster sleeps on, quite in the manner of Euripides, in the presence of the active preparations for his own ruin.

§ 9. MEDEIA.

The heroine of this tragedy of Euripides is one of the most imposing and terrible figures that has come down to us from ancient Greek literature. It is not, however, the magician of strange power, who assisted Jason in winning the Golden Fleece and in performing his other Kolchian adventures, that overawes one; neither is it the sorceress who worked her wonders on Pelias, but rather the Medeia who avenged her slighted honour through the destruction of Jason’s newly won bride and his two sons; it is the Medeia _at Corinth_ that we know best, the Medeia of Euripides. This chapter in the barbarian’s career assumed under his hand a prominence which far exceeded anything that had gone before. Euripides’ Medeia has remained ever since _the_ Medeia of art and letters.

In early Greek art Medeia is not a common figure, and when she does occur it is invariably as the sorceress[263]. In this rôle one meets her on both black and red figured vases[264], and on the famous relief in the Lateran[265]. After the beginning of the fourth century B.C. the Corinthian Medeia predominates. As such one finds her on vases from Lower Italy, Apulia and Campania especially, on Pompeian wall paintings[266], on terra cottas[267], gems[268], and the Roman sarcophagi[269].

The most famous vase upon which we find Medeia is the great amphora in Munich[270], found in Canosa, the ancient Canusium, in Apulia, Oct. 16, 1813. The painting consists of three sections of figures parallel with the perimeter of the vase. The two upper ones are divided in the middle by a building with six Ionic columns. On the inside hang two round shields—a common decoration in this sort of picture. On the right, inside of the house, is a chair or θρόνος, over the arm-rest of which a richly dressed female figure has fallen; above on the frieze the inscription ΚΡΕΟΝΤΕΙΑ (sc. ΠΑΙΣ) shows the person to be Kreusa, or Glauke[271], the daughter of Kreon. Rushing rapidly towards her from the right is a youth in petasos and chlamys. He has already reached the upper step of the palace and is attempting to remove Kreusa’s head-dress. Incised in the vase is the name ΙΠΠΟΤΗΣ[272]. On the left an elderly male figure, bearded, wearing long, richly embroidered chiton, hurries to Kreusa. One hand is placed behind her as though to support the body; the other, from which the sceptre has just fallen, clutches his hair. He gazes to one side in a dazed sort of manner. On the frieze above is ΩΝ, evidently the last letters of ΚΡΕΩΝ[273]. To the left outside of the palace, and somewhat lower, an elderly woman in long chiton and mantle runs toward the scene of the tragedy, extending her left hand and holding her right to her head in the usual attitude of fright. She is designated by the inscription, incised, as ΜΕΡΟΠΗ[274]—most likely the wife of Kreon. Further on the left is a group of two, a pedagogue in the usual costume, and a female attendant. The former is hurrying towards the palace, while the latter attempts to divert him from his onward rush.

To the right from Hippotes is another female figure, _en face_, who appears to be leaving the palace. Her dress, especially the veil, and her bearing point her out as a nurse or servant of Kreusa. Just in front of the latter upon the ground is the open box in which the baneful presents were brought.

The lower section is divided into two parts by Medeia’s dragon-chariot, held in readiness by the charioteer with a burning torch in either hand. The upper part of the latter’s body is nude. There can be little doubt that the figure is female. The inscription ΟΙΣΤΡΟΣ shows it to be Οἴστρος, the personification of Medeia’s rage. On the left, Medeia, ΜΗΔΕΙΑ[275], with richly decorated oriental costume and Phrygian cap, advances to the right with drawn sword to kill one son whom she grasps by the hair with the left hand. It is not easy to say whether the boy has taken refuge on the altar, or whether his mother has lifted him upon it. More probably the latter is true. The lad is nude, with the exception of a garment over his left shoulder. He wears bracelets and on the left leg an anklet. Immediately behind Medeia a doryphoros, dressed as Hippotes, but with two spears instead of a sword, hurries to the left with the second boy, dressed as is the other. On the right of the chariot and hastening impetuously to rescue his son is Jason, ΙΑΣΩΝ. He is bearded and has a sword and long spear. His chlamys is thrown over his left arm. Beside him, but moving at slackened speed, another doryphoros extends the right hand towards the chariot as though to warn Jason of the futility of his intervention. Above this group on the right is a bearded male figure, pointing towards the events transpiring below. He wears a long royal dress and Phrygian cap, and carries a sceptre in his left. ΕΙΔΩΛΟΝ ΑΗΤΟΥ, incised, indicates him as the ghost of Aetes, Medeia’s father.

The upper section is bounded on either side by a Corinthian column surmounted by a tripod. Herakles, with club, bow and quiver, and lion’s skin, stands on the left facing Athene, who sits upon a _terrain_. She has her helmet in her right hand and leans against her shield. The spear is not wanting. On the right are two male figures, one sitting, the other standing. The oil-cruses and strigils, as well as the two stars and the pilos, near the one who sits, designate them as the Dioskouroi.

We turn now to a closer consideration of our vase to see if it is under the influence of Euripides. Starting with the scene which the vase painter has given us in Kreon’s palace, one cannot but be struck with the agreement between the picture and the scene described by the poet through the mouth of the messenger in the celebrated speech, vs. 1136–1230. This wonderful passage is the triumph of Euripidean rhetoric in the _Medeia_. The two boys, together with their father, had entered Kreusa’s apartment conveying the box with the rich vestment and golden crown, and she, who had refused to listen to words and be softened, was, woman-like, melted by these unexpected gifts. She accepts them, and father and sons retire. She then arrays herself before the mirror, admires her beauty, retreats across the room with proud, exulting step, all too captivated by her gracious figure, when the terrible moment comes—

χροιὰν γὰρ ἀλλάξασα λεχρία πάλιν χωρεῖ τρέμουσα κῶλα καὶ μόλις φθάνει θρόνοισιν ἐμπεσοῦσα μὴ χαμαὶ πεσεῖν. vs. 1168–1170.

There is a remarkable harmony between these words and the picture upon the vase, where Kreusa lies a helpless mass across the arms of the θρόνος. Her attitude suggests to one’s mind exactly the idea in θρόνοισιν ἐμπεσοῦσα μὴ χαμαὶ πεσεῖν. Rarely has a vase painter come nearer to _illustration_ than here. It had, indeed, been far easier to paint Kreusa in her fallen position upon the floor, πίτνει δ’ ἐς οὖδας (v. 1195), where the chair and the form of the body would have presented no such difficulties in drawing as they do in the present position[276]. Why was this not done? Simply, as I am convinced, because the painter chose to present the most tragic moments, and shape them into the greatest possible dramatic effect. He seized the crisis in Kreusa’s dread struggle, when, doomed by the poison and flames, she _dropped_ across the chair. Here, as in the scene below, the vase painter has given evidence of dramatic power of a high degree, and I venture to think that had he not been an artist he would have been a tragedian.

Kreon, who, of course, could not be represented as falling upon the body of Kreusa as he entered the room, ἄφνω προσελθὼν δῶμα προσπίτνει νεκρῷ (v. 1205), while she was still resting on the chair[277], is painted in the first moment of reaching the unfortunate one. He places his left hand under her body, and, overcome by the horror of the sight, lets fall his sceptre from his right hand as he gazes for a moment in transfixed agony from his daughter’s situation. The position of the arms is exactly that of the same figure on the sarcophagi reliefs[278], and no doubt would be traceable through the five intervening centuries if the monuments were at hand. Our vase would appear to represent here a tradition that was always closely followed in representing Kreon in an upright position.

Merope, the mother, who is mentioned in Corinthian legends only as the wife of Sisyphos[279] and of Polybos[280], does not appear at all in Euripides. The painter’s principle was to name all the chief figures on the vase, and it is not necessary to point out here another source than the _Medeia_ of Euripides. A name thus known as belonging to Corinthian royal families would be a natural invention for the wife of Kreon if there was no legend to provide further information about her. I hold this painting, however, as adequate evidence that there was a _third_ Merope known in Corinth[281]. That the mother as well as the father should be represented here is further witness of the spirit which the poet breathed into his work. Medeia’s fixed determination to ruin all her enemies at one blow and to root out the whole royal house in a day (vs. 373 f.) is expressed in the extended scene here given, in a manner well calculated to inspire the beholder with much that lies between the lines in Euripides. There is absolutely no reason for claiming this scene as an extension of that given in the poet, and therefore based upon a post-Euripidean tragedy. One who denies the vase painter the right to introduce figures foreign to the poet fails utterly in comprehending the spirit of the fourth and third century vase painting. The artists followed the number of characters in the poetical version no more slavishly than they did the disposition and movement of the same. Starting with what the poet gave them and holding this in mind as a guide and inspiration in certain details, the painters proceeded to create, as _independent_ artists, a similar scene, transfused, however, with their own alterations. It is to be expected that in the over-filled vase paintings of Apulia and Campania one will find figures that show a wide liberty on the part of the painters, and that illustrate well how much the severe methods of the Athenian vase painters had been altered in Magna Graecia.

Another instance of this same independence of the painter is seen in the introduction of Hippotes, to whom there is not the slightest reference in Euripides. In vs. 1168–1203, where Kreusa’s fate is described, no one is referred to as present except the female attendants, who were possessed with terror and lent no aid to their mistress. Kreon unexpectedly entered, ξυμφορᾶς ἀγνωσίᾳ, and soon succumbed, a victim together with his daughter. Why does Hippotes appear on the vase as the one who is trying to liberate Kreusa? With Vogel[282] again the answer _liegt auf der Hand: weil Euripides nicht die Quelle der Darstellung ist_. Because the painter enlarged the scene of the poet, and was more tragic and more dramatic than Euripides, a later or at least another version of the myth is claimed as his authority. This appears to me altogether _improbable_ and _unnecessary_. It is _improbable_ because, as we have abundant reason to believe, Euripides’ version of the myth was, both in Greek and Roman times, the most popular[283]. Other _Medeias_ are mere names. Furthermore our vase cannot be dated later than the second half of the fourth century B.C., i. e. not much more than a century after the first appearance of the _Medeia_ in 431 B.C. This is an important fact which seems to have been mostly overlooked. Euripides, it must be remembered, ruled the fourth century B.C. as the prophet of the time, and was hailed by the Greeks of the colonies and the motherland with universal admiration. It is safe to say that no Greek poet was more upon the lips of the people or more in their hearts. Tardy as was the recognition of his genius during his lifetime, the extent of his posthumous fame was unparalleled and his name rang through Alexandrian and Hellenistic times as that of one of the immortals. Are we to suppose then that a vase painter of Magna Graecia, who might have lived with those who had seen Euripides, was, in dealing with the Medeia myth, under the influence of some poet of a day? Was an artist who lived in this proximity to Euripides’ own time likely to follow the guidance of any other than the great master who created the Medeia character and started her down the centuries in that unexampled rage and fury? We dare, moreover, go further and claim with Robert that _die Vasen stehen der Aufführungszeit der Medeia so nahe, dass sie den Werth directer Zeugnisse beanspruchen dürfen_[284].

This explanation is _unnecessary_, for, as we have already pointed out, the vase painters gave less heed to the subject-matter and the details of the traditional types than to the general effect and dramatic arrangement. It was possible to double the dramatic effect here through the introduction of the bride’s brother, and the painter did not hesitate to place him on the vase, although the poet did not refer to him. The onward rush of this finely drawn figure, with his chlamys fluttering in the wind, has altogether a dramatic air and brings one to feel that the theatrical element, so much in the background in the fifth century B.C., had taken possession of the fourth century work[285]. It is surprising to find with what persistency certain scholars refuse such additions as incompatible with the dependence of the work on a given literary source. If the artist has done more than _illustrate_, all relationship between him and the poet is denied. But let us turn to a famous work where illustration pure and simple is meant, and we shall discover that if one follows even there this mode of criticism, the poet and the drawing which is meant to illustrate him will have to be divorced. I refer to Botticelli’s drawings for Dante’s _Divina Commedia_[286]. Each drawing is intended to bring out the events of the _canto_ to which it is devoted, and so one expects only the incidents of one _canto_ to appear in one drawing. The illustration for the _Inferno_, _canto_ ii, represents Beatrice swinging upward in the air, to whom Virgil is pointing and calling Dante’s attention. This is all a pure invention of the artist as Beatrice is simply mentioned in the text, and not at all thought of as present or appearing to the two pilgrims. Had Botticelli then some other story in mind, and was there another version of Dante than that which we have? Certainly not. The artist, although in this place engaged as a mere illustrator, read his own notions into Dante and put them into his drawing. Again, even on the same plate, the entrance to the _Inferno_ is shown with the words _per me_ over the door. This scene belongs to _canto_ iii, where in fact Botticelli again introduces it. If, therefore, the third _canto_ and the drawing that belongs to it had never reached us but we did possess _canto_ ii and its illustration, how would the critics who read the Greek vases as we have indicated, dispose of Botticelli and his faithfulness to Dante? They would all declare that the famous painter must have had another text which he followed. And so one may go on multiplying instances in this one work to show that an artist, even when he set out to follow the poet, was not able to do so[287].

There are also among the Pompeian wall paintings[288] some that are mere illustrations and are in the spirit of this sort of work, and yet they show various peculiar changes and additions contrary to the epigrams on which they are based. One is to remember therefore that in the vase paintings, where a more independent form of art is found than in illustrations, a liberty in adding or omitting figures, that may often disturb the form of the myth, is to be allowed. To select one example from many: Euphronios[289] on the Eurystheus kylix represents Sthenelos and his wife as present when Herakles brings the boar and is about to drop it into the cistern where Eurystheus has taken refuge. That the latter was king and had imposed the labours on Herakles, was proof enough that Sthenelos was already dead. How then did Euphronios dare to place him on the vase? Evidently because he took little heed of the exactitude for which modern scholars would call him and others of his trade to account.

The old nurse who observed the first signs of her mistress’ precarious condition—καὶ τις γεραιὰ προσπόλων ... ἀνωλόλυξε (vs. 1171–73)—or one of the numerous attendants present (v. 1176) may be recognized in the figure to the right from Hippotes. Perhaps this is more correctly the one who broke away to convey the sad news to Jason—ἑ δὲ πρὸς τὸν ἀρτίως πόσιν, | φράσουσα νύμφης συμφοράς (vs. 1178 f.). This person with the matronly air always occurs on the sarcophagi, but in the scene where the two boys are handing over the gifts to Kreusa[290].

The position of the pedagogue on the opposite side is not so incongruous as many have thought. There is really no reason for considering him a sort of connecting link between the middle and lower sections, as Robert has done[291]. Let us follow the pedagogue and the boys through the play. At vs. 46 f. of the prologue the nurse reports the latter as returning from their sport—ἐκ τρόχων πεπαυμένοι—and in vs. 89 ff. she orders them inside the palace,

ἴτ’, εὖ γὰρ ἔσται, δωμάτων ἔσω, τέκνα,

and commands the pedagogue to keep them at a safe distance from their mother,

σὺ δ’ ὡς μάλιστα τούσδ’ ἐρημώσας ἔχε, καὶ μὴ πέλαζε μητρὶ δυσθυμουμένῃ.

At v. 105 the three disappear and nothing more is heard of them till Medeia, who is addressing Jason and the chorus, cries out in v. 894—

ὦ τέκνα, τέκνα, δεῦτε, λείπετε στέγας, ἐξέλθετ’.

Hereupon the boys appear in the orchestra, _unaccompanied_ by their pedagogue, and remain with Medeia and Jason till vs. 969 ff., where their mother hands them the gifts and bids them go, ὁς τάχιστα (v. 974), to Kreusa and place the same in her hands. They then depart with their father and deliver the presents in the manner afterwards described by the messenger (vs. 1136–1155), and in company with Jason leave Kreusa’s apartments. Just outside somewhere the pedagogue joins them and appears with the children in the orchestra to inform Medeia that her sons have been pardoned (vs. 1002 ff.). Immediately thereafter she orders the pedagogue to go inside,

... ἀλλὰ βαῖνε δωμάτων ἔσω καὶ παισὶ πόρσυν’ οἶα χρὴ καθ’ ἡμέραν. vs. 1019 f.

As he re-enters the palace the terrible news reaches him, through, one of the female attendants, that Kreusa is possessed with some strange malady. It is at this juncture, dramatic in the extreme, that, as it seems to me, the vase painter thought of the pedagogue. The latter has forgotten Medeia’s command to arrange the boys’ program for the day and is determined to go to the apartments whence comes the great alarm. The attendant, however, endeavours to dissuade him, and the artist has even represented her in the attempt to deter the sturdy old pedagogue from carrying out his resolution. While all this is happening within the palace, Medeia gives expression to the great battle that is going on in her bosom. The speech is one of the finest in Euripides. Shall she now go ahead and kill her children, or is the courage lacking? She finally bids them enter the house χωρεῖτε, παῖδες, ἐς δόμους (vs. 1053 and 1076), and soon follows them. The death-cries of vs. 1271 ff. are heard not long afterwards. We have therefore no reason to infer from anything in Euripides that the pedagogue ever met the boys again. The fact that he is so often represented in the death-scene[292] is simply due to the fancy of the artists. It is natural to think of him in company with the boys. The vase painter has in the present instance shown us the whereabouts of the pedagogue when the poet had passed him by.

The lower section, which represents the events directly succeeding those in the one just considered, completes the dread vengeance work of Medeia. The artist had an opportunity here to follow largely his own notions in disposing of the details, for in the last moments when horror followed close upon horror, and the royal house of Corinth was shaking to its foundations, Euripides hurries us on with great rapidity and omits many of the particulars. Medeia moves with resistless fury through the last part of the bloody drama, till she at last disappears upon her chariot. What was the vase painter to do with all this? It is plain that he felt himself compelled to combine, for greater effect, different moments. Medeia enters the palace after the triumphant address in vs. 1236–1250, and a moment later the cries of the boys are heard within. Jason, aroused by the ruin wrought upon Kreusa, suddenly appears and asks where Medeia is, and remarks that he must save his sons from the fury of the populace (vs. 1293–1305). He at once learns the whole truth, and orders that the palace doors be thrown open that he may behold the scene of murder. Medeia appears then on her chariot, rolled out upon the ekkyklema. She stands thus during the final dialogue with Jason (vs. 1317–1404) till she disappears by the aid of the _Flugmaschine_[293].

From these elements the vase painter selected the murder scene, which, not being described by Euripides, could be represented in any manner that struck his fancy. He made this the centre about which all else was grouped; all eyes are turned upon Medeia and the altar. In this disposition of the matter other details had to be sacrificed. The chariot, which could not be wanting, had to have a charioteer, and as Medeia was not ready to mount it herself, the personification of the Medeia-spirit is the natural figure that the artist would select. Jason, again, to omit whom would have been unpardonable, had to be painted in the act of rescuing or attempting the rescue of his sons. So we see that the three moments discernible in the poet, (_a_) the murder, (_b_) Jason’s appearance to save the boys, (_c_) the chariot and the escape of Medeia, are all worked together by the artist into a strong complex. One feels no incongruity in the picture, and is forced to agree to a large amount of success that the artist has enjoyed here. Since the pedagogue appears in the scene above, the artist uses one of the ever convenient doryphoroi as a companion to the boys or rather as rescuer of one of them[294]. It is immaterial whether the painter intended to represent the one boy as actually out of danger or not. A great many useless words have been spent in trying to show that the vase painter has here followed a tradition referred to by Diodorus Siculus[295], who relates that one child escaped—πλὴν γὰρ ἑνὸς τοῦ διαφυγόντος τοὺς ἄλλους υἱοὺς ἀποσφάξαι. This is not only highly improbable[296], but, more than that, speaks for a superficial reading of Diodorus on the part of those who use this quotation. It appears that nothing more of the chapter had been read than it was necessary to quote. In the first place, what can τοὺς ἄλλους above refer to if not to _more than one_, and therefore to at least _two_? But where upon our vase or upon any other monument does Medeia appear with _three_ children[297]? It would seem, therefore, that, because the vase painter drew the scene as he did, this very inapt quotation is brought out to bolster up an unnecessary theory.

Is it necessary to conclude with numerous scholars that Oistros upon the chariot represents one of Pollux’s ἔκσκευα πρόσωπα (iv. 141)? Does our painting necessarily go back to some tragedy in which the personification, Oistros, appears before the audience as Medeia’s charioteer? It has already been pointed out that the moment which the vase painter chose to represent never was visible in the theatre of Euripides. What happened before the palace doors were unbarred, in v. 1314, could be painted in a hundred different ways, and still be inspired by the poet from v. 1271 to v. 1316. It is true that Euripides does not mention Οἶστρος, much less as Medeia’s charioteer. What need had he to introduce any personification of her rage and fury to guide the chariot, when, at the first glimpse of it in v. 1317, Medeia manages it herself? Any one who thoroughly works himself into the situation that the painter has shown upon the vase cannot help seeing that Medeia’s double, her burning and infuriated barbarian wildness, the spirit shown in vs. 1236–1250, was a natural and easy subject for embodiment under the name Οἶστρος. This personification is not met with in Euripides, and has naturally caused much stumbling. It should, however, be compared with Λύσσα, with which it has much in common. Orestes says to Pylades, μὴ θεαί (i. e. the Furies) μ’ οἴστρω κατασχῶς’[298], and two verses further on, εὐλαβοῦ Λύσσης μετασχεῖν τῆς ἐμῆς. Thus the use of the οἶστρος caused Λύσσα. The step to the personification of a figure Oistros would easily follow from some such development as this, and I hold both words to cover the _cause_ and _effect_ in the case mentioned.

As Lyssa was a favourite figure with Euripides, we may examine still another place where the rôle that she plays is much the same as that which Oistros takes in the painting.

In _Her. Fur._ vs. 880 ff., the chorus describes Lyssa as _travelling upon a chariot_[299].

βέβακεν ἐν δίφροισιν ἁ πολύστονος, ἅρμασι δ’ ἐνδίδωσι κέντρον ὡς ἐπὶ λώβᾳ Νυκτὸς Γοργὼν ἑκατογκεφάλοις ὄφεων ἰαχήμασι,[300] Λύσσα[301] μαρμαρωπός.

Here at least one has adequate evidence that the vase painter did not paint an unknown scene, even though he did prefer to call his figure Οἶστρος[302].

The shade of Aetes[303], a pure invention of the artist, has been held to refer to a post-Euripidean tragedy. One finds such pedantic ingenuity used in explaining this figure that the would-be-learnedness borders upon the ridiculous. It is affirmed, for example, that somewhere it _must have been stated for the vase painter that Aetes had died since Medeia left him_[304]. How far, pray, did vase painters concern themselves about such points of chronology or sequence of events? We have already pointed out in regard to these artists that they introduced and omitted characters just as they chose; and especially is this true in regard to such side-figures as Aetes is here. Then again, why is any literary source necessary to prove the old man’s death? It was but the natural course of events that the painter followed when he concluded that Aetes was among the shades. It is absurd to require some proof that the unlucky king had, within the long period of Medeia’s absence, passed into the world of spirits. It seems to me that there are two views that can adequately explain this addition to the picture, and with either one in mind the vase painter would have needed no post-Euripidean work or painting but simply the _Medeia_ tragedy to inspire him.

Robert[305] pointed to vs. 31 ff. of the prologue as furnishing perhaps the suggestion for this figure, but that is but a small part of the whole suggestion, and it is well to follow this note which recurs in many places, and is, to my mind, a very important part of the Euripidean conception of Medeia. I give herewith the various places where this element may be discovered.

αὐτὴ πρὸς αὑτὴν πατέρ’ ἀποιμώζη φίλον καὶ γαῖαν οἴκους θ’, οὒς προδοῦς’ ἀφίκετο. vs. 31 f.

ὤ πάτερ, ὤ πόλις, ὧν ἀπενάσθην αἰσχρῶς τὸν ἐμὸν κτείνασα κάσιν. vs. 166 f.

αὐτὴ δὲ πατέρα καὶ δόμους προδοῦς’ ἐμούς. v. 483.

πότερα πρὸς πατρὸς δόμους, οὓς σοὶ προδοῦσα καὶ πάτραν ἀφικόμην; vs. 502 f.

ἡμάρτανον τόθ’ ἡνίκ’ ἐξελίμπανον δόμους πατρῴους. vs. 800 f.

These repeated allusions to her father and her former home seem to me to express in a strong manner what the painter chose to develop into the ghost-figure. Aetes appears here to behold the retribution that is overtaking Jason; and his participation in the fearful tragedy emphasizes the secret power in Medeia, her sorcery, and her chariot. The artist read between the lines and discovered the spirit of the poet, and this he has successfully reproduced. A similar instance was noted in the liberty assumed by Botticelli in including Beatrice in the second plate to the _Inferno_[306].

In the second place the εἴδωλον emphasizes the barbaric element in the Medeia-Jason history, and impresses the beholder with the workings of barbarism _versus_ Hellenism. This chord is, moreover, continuously struck by Euripides[307]. The poet endeavours from first to last to keep up the keenest distinction between Greece and Kolchis, between Jason’s family and that of Aetes.

There was, moreover, an opportunity, in introducing this oriental king, to add features strikingly characteristic of the Apulian vase paintings[308]. The elegance and display of costume peculiar to the Persian and Asia Minor kings were attractive for an artist, and the introduction of Aetes’ shade was a happy invention that went far towards making the deeper meaning of the poet plain.

The deities, who, as spectators, are an important part of the paintings on so many Lower Italy vases, are arranged in the upper section. They need not have any particular connexion with the incidents before them. The Olympian sympathy with earthly affairs was a favourite theme with the artists of the time, and a satisfactory number of participating divinities is usually added where important events occur. Herakles and Athena seem to be but indifferently interested in what is happening below them, although the former was intimately associated with the Argonautic expedition[309], and the latter was the promoter of the enterprise[310]. The Dioskouroi, who likewise took a large part in the adventures of the voyage, are fitly represented here[311]. They are, however, giving no heed to the tragedy. It is enough if the painter has recalled for us the famous voyage and shown us the prelude, as it were, to the drama played in the two lower sections. The panorama of Jason and Medeia’s life together passes before us in distinct scenes. By painting the participants in the expedition and also the shade of Aetes the artist has heightened the effect of the double tragedy which the poet made famous.

Such is the painting on this celebrated amphora, which I do not hesitate to call Euripidean.

Another monument which also shows Kreusa’s death is a vase from Pomarico, now in Naples[312].

Kreusa has fallen from the θρόνος that occupies the middle of the scene, and in a half-sitting posture upon the floor endeavours to remove the head-dress. Before her is the open box in which the presents were brought. A mirror hangs on the wall. She is dressed in the Ionic chiton with mantle; has earrings and one bracelet. She stares at Kreon, who hurries toward her with outstretched right hand. He has the sceptre in the left hand, is bearded, bald, and wears a chiton which has slipped down to his waist. To the left a female figure rushes away _en face_, and, watching Kreusa, makes the gestures of one terror-stricken. She is dressed like the latter except the earrings and necklace. Jahn called her a companion of Kreusa, considering that if she were Merope of the Munich vase she would be approaching her daughter and not leaving her. I prefer to see in this figure one of the attendants who in vs. 1177 ff. spread the news. It is true that the appearance of the figure is that of a more important personage than a servant. The latter are not usually represented wearing jewellery and fine costumes, and yet the attendant on the Munich vase, who is endeavouring to divert the pedagogue, is quite as richly dressed. In the present instance, however, the drawing is very careless and the workmanship is of an inferior sort. I believe, therefore, that the artist either did not know the fitness of things, or else took no pains to indicate that this figure was a servant or attendant. When he had once drawn such a miserable king as Kreon is, hobbling along in a ridiculous manner, he might well have slipped into the other extreme of painting a nurse in a lady’s garb. The scene is based upon the messenger’s speech, vs. 1176 ff.

The pedagogue on the right, who is hurrying away the two boys wrapped in cloaks, is a reminiscence of vs. 1157 ff. where the father, Jason, goes away with them.

καὶ πρὶν ὲκ δόμων μακρὰν ἀπεῖνει πατέρα καὶ παῖδας σέθεν.

The winged Fury sitting in the upper right-hand corner observing the scene might well be expected as a spectator. The suggestion for her may be found in

ἔξελ’ οἴκων φονίαν τάλαινάν τ’ Ἐρινὺν ὑπ’ ἀλαστόρων. vs. 1259 f.

The murder of the boys inside of the palace is painted on a Nolan amphora in the _Cabinet des Médailles_ in Paris[313]. Medeia in Greek dress and Phrygian cap has slain one boy, who lies over the altar, either extremity touching the floor. She stands, _en face_, with the other child grasped fast by the hair. This hand also holds the sword. In her left, stretched out behind the altar, is the sheath. The artist doubtless had in mind the words which the chorus heard in vs. 1271 ff.—

οἴμοι, τί δράσω; ποῖ φύγω μητρὸς χέρας; οὐκ οἶδ’, ἀδελφὲ φίλτατ’· ὀλλύμεσθα γάρ.

In the upper right-hand corner the pedagogue appears, carrying an oil-cruse in his left hand. His right is raised to his head. A wreath and two fillets point to the sanctuary.

Another Canosa vase in Naples[314], although furnishing a free handling of Medeia’s escape, is still an important witness for the chariot and its actual appearance in the production of the tragedy. In this particular the painting is Euripidean.

Medeia in rapid flight upon her dragon-chariot holds the reins in her left hand and the corner of her mantle in the right. Her dress is the customary one for charioteers. On the ground by the wheels one boy lies dead; the other is said to be visible on the original, inside of the chariot as on the sarcophagi. The sword is also on the ground. She is pursued by three youths, one on horseback, Jason (?), and two on foot. They all carry spears, and each has a chlamys. The middle one also wears a pilos and has a shield. In front of the chariot is Lyssa (?) with a sword in the right hand, and staff or κέντρον (?) in the left. She has an Artemis costume with a mantle. Galloping ahead to lead the way is Selene, seated as usual on her horse.

The painting is poorly preserved, but the main part is sufficiently plain. The artist followed the traditional manner of Medeia’s flight.

§ 10. PHOINISSAI.

The _Phoinissai_ in common with the _Septem_ of Aischylos deals with the well-known story of the attack of Polyneikes and his supporters on Thebes. The events connected with this war can be traced all through Greek and Roman literature and art[315]. We have here to do with a relief cup, which illustrates Euripides’ version of the combat. It possesses, like the other ‘Megarian Bowls’ discussed in the present work, a value so unique for the study of our poet that it may stand beside any vase painting in assisting us in the study of the drama’s influence upon art.

The cup shown in fig. 27 is of red, unglazed ware, and is said to have been found in Thebes[316]. The following figures may be discerned. On the left Teiresias, ΤΕΙΡΕΣΙΑΣ, carrying a bough and led by his daughter Manto, ΜΑΝΤΩ, approaches Kreon, ΚΡΕΩΝ, who kneels before the aged seer. They are both bearded, and the latter wears a long chiton. Next follows Polyneikes, ΠΟΛΥΝΕΙΚΗΣ, and Eteokles, ΕΤΕΟΚΛΗΣ, in full armour, engaged in their fatal fight. Thebe, ΘΗΒΗ, holding in her hand a sceptre, sits upon a rock watching the sight. The messenger, ΑΓΓΕΛΟΣ, wearing a short chiton and chlamys, stands by Iokaste, ΙΟΚ ... ΣΤΗ, before the palace from which Antigone, ΑΝΤΙΓΟΝΗ, has come. The latter raises her hand in astonishment. The women both wear long chitons. Lastly, on the right, Antigone appears before Kreon, inscriptions in each case, in a supplicating attitude.

That Kreon might know definitely how matters were to terminate, he had sent for Teiresias. The latter makes his appearance in v. 834—

ἡγοῦ πάροιθε, θύγατερ, ὡς τυφλῷ ποδὶ ὀφθαλμὸς εἶ σύ, ναυτίλοισιν ἄστρον ὤς·

and so one sees him here before Kreon. His daughter has brought him as he wished, and now stands behind him, while the seer discloses the terrible misfortune which must visit Kreon before success can crown the Theban arms. The son Menoikeus, who is present in Euripides, has been left out of the group. The messenger soon appears and calls for Iokaste.

ἔξελθ’, ἄκουσον, Οἰδίπου κλεινὴ δάμαρ. v. 1070.

She does hear, and comes from the palace and learns everything about the attack thus far, and how the different heroes on each side were armed. To her special inquiry regarding her two sons the messenger replies in detail (vs. 1217 ff.).

ἤδη δ’ ἔκρυπτον σῶμα παγχάλκοις ὅπλοις δισσοὶ γέροντος Οἰδίπου νεανίαι. vs. 1242 f.

στήτην δὲ λαμπρώ, χρῶμά τ’ οὐκ ἠλλαξάτην, μαργῶντ’ ἐπ’ ἀλλήλοισιν ἱέναι δόρυ. vs. 1246 f.

But this is before the battle. They were waiting for the word from the priests who examined the entrails of the victims. The second messenger brings the account of the engagement proper, and this is what the artist seized upon[317].

ᾖξαν δρόμημα δεινὸν ἀλλήλοις ἔπι· κάπροι δ’ ὅπως θήγοντες ἀγρίαν γένυν ξυνῆψαν, ἀφρῷ διάβροχοι γενειάδας· ᾖσσον δὲ λόγχαις· ἀλλ’ ὑφίζανον κύκλοις, ὅπως σίδηρος ἐξολισθάνοι μάτην. vs. 1379 ff.

This is the moment which the relief represents. Their spears have clashed, and each is still safe behind the good circumference of his shield.

Iokaste, much disturbed at the critical situation described by the messenger, determines to call Antigone and rush to the battle-field to reconcile the brothers,—

ὦ τέκνον, ἔξελθ’, Ἀντιγόνη, δόμων πάρος. v. 1264.

she cries, and Antigone at once appears and asks—

τίν’, ὦ τεκοῦσα μῆτερ, ἔκπληξιν νέαν φίλοις ἀϋτεῖς τῶνδε δωμάτων πάρος; vs. 1270 f.

The situation is dramatically told on the vase. The palace doors are still open, and Antigone stands astonished before her mother.

No sooner has Kreon learned the result of the battle than he passes an edict banishing the blind Oedipus from the land. The faithful daughter comes to intercede for her father and the scene is described in vs. 1539–1682. The artist has seized upon this situation, but has omitted Oedipus. Antigone bows before the new king, who stands with his arms folded listening placidly to the supplications.

ἀτὰρ ς’ ἐρωτῶ τὸν νεωστὶ κοίρανον· τί θεσμοποιεῖς ἐπὶ ταλαιπώρῳ νεκρῷ; vs. 1644 f.

This is the moment which the last group represents.

The personification of Thebes occupying the central field and presiding, as it were, over the destinies of the capital, extends the setting of the poet and adds not a little to the interest of the picture.

There exists, remarkable enough, a small fragment of another cup, which must have been much like the one just discussed. It is shown in fig. 28, and joins on well to the last scene in fig. 27, filling out the gap made by the omission of Oedipus[318]. We see the stooping and aged figure of the former king, in long chiton, feeling his way along or being led by some one. The inscription renders everything plain. Οἰδίπ]ους κελεύει [ἄγειν πρὸς τὸ π]τῶμα τῆς αὑτοῦ μητρ[ός τε καὶ] γυναικὸς καὶ τῶν υίῶ[ν. The unfortunate Oedipus’ doom is sealed, and he enters with Antigone upon his permanent banishment, but he will be led to Iokaste that he may embrace her once more, even though she is now a corpse;

προσάγαγέ νύν με, μητρὸς ὡς ψαύσω σέθεν. v. 1693.

At this moment the artist conceived his figure, and that one might not mistake its meaning he wrote above it who the person was and what the scene meant. Here, then, in this bit of potsherd, one can see and study the workings of that awful curse which blasted the house of Labdakos and sent the miserable Oedipus to wander ‘blind amidst the blaze of noon.’

§ 11. SUPPLEMENTARY.

There remains still a number of vase paintings that have been referred to certain of Euripides’ extant plays. It will be seen that I have not been able to convince myself of their Euripidean character, and have therefore not included them in the number of published paintings. The following list gives the most important vases of this class. No discussion accompanies them, as they seem to me to present difficulties that preclude their relation to extant tragedies.

_Alkestis._

1. Etruscan amphora, no. 728 in the _Cabinet des Médailles_, Paris. Pub. as frontispiece to Dennis’ _Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria_, vol. ii. = _Arch. Ztg._ 1863, pl. 180. 3.

_Andromache._

1. Amphora, Brit. Mus., cat. iii. E 155. Pub. Raoul-Rochette, _Mon. inéd._ pl. 40. 2; cf. Vogel, _Scen. eur. Trag._ p. 141 f., and _Arch. Ztg._ 1880, p. 189.

_Elektra._

1. Slender Campanian amphora, Berlin. _Pub. Arch._ Anz. 1890, p. 90, no. 7; cf. _loc. cit._ The interpretation given explains the scene as representing Orestes slaying Aigisthos. This was done, however, not at a sanctuary or in the open, as here, but _in the palace_ where Aigisthos, Orestes, and Pylades were engaged in the slaughtering of oxen. At v. 790 they had entered the palace.

_Herakles Furens._

1. The Assteas vase in Madrid. Pub. _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. B, pl. 1 = _Mon. d. Inst._ viii. 10; cf. Hirzel, _Annali d. Inst._ 1864, p. 323 ff.: Körte, _Ueber Personificationen psychologischer Affekte_, p. 18 f., and Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 143.

_Hippolytos._

1. Amphora. Attic fabric, _cir._ 420 B.C. Berlin, vid. _Arch. Anz._ 1890, p. 89.

2. Lekythos from Paestum, now in Naples, no. 2900. Pub. Reinach-Millingen, _Peintures_, 41 = _Élite Céram._ iv. 87.

_Ion._

1. Nolan vase in Cassel. Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1852, pl. 37; cf. Furtwängler, _Sammlung Sabouroff, Vasen_, Einleitung, p. 14, note 12; Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 145.

2. Painting on a fourth cent. krater. Pub. _Élite Céram._ ii. 76 a; cf. Furtwängler, _op. cit._ p. 14.

3. An Oxybaphon in the Louvre. Pub. _Élite Céram._ ii. 88 a = Reinach-Millin. _op. cit._ i. 46 = Müller-Wieseler, _Denkmäler d. a. Kunst._ ii. 142; cf. Furtwängler, _loc. cit._

_Iphigeneia at Aulis._

1. Lucanian krater, Brit. Mus., cat. iv. F 159. Pub. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 14. 9 = _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. 5, pl. 9. 3 = Inghirami, _Vasi fitt._ iii. pl. 251; cf. Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 116.

Euripides’ Lost Plays.

The following list includes most of the paintings referred to the lost tragedies. Where it has seemed to me doubtful about the Euripidean character of the scenes I have preferred to omit mention of them altogether.

_Aiolos._

1. Canosa hydria in Bari. The shoulder decoration only is pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1883, pl. 7. 1; cf. p. 51 ff. and Furtwängler, _Masterpieces_, p. 109. The latter thinks the painting is from the fifth cent. B.C. Vid. also Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 28 ff.

_Alkmene._

1. Bell-shaped krater, signed by Python now in the Brit. Mus., cat. iv. F 149. Pub. _J. H. S._ 1890, pl. 6; cf. _ibid._ p. 225 ff.

2. Amphora from Capua. Brit. Mus., cat. iv. F 193. Pub. _Annali d. Inst._ 1872, pl. A. Cf. _ibid._ p. 1 ff. On both paintings Alkmene sitting on an altar appeals to Zeus against Amphitryon. Cf. Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 34.

_Andromeda._

1. Krater from Capua. Berlin, no. 3237. Cf. _Arch. Anz._ 1893, p. 91, f. no. 50. Pub. and discussed by Bethe, _Jahrbuch_, 1896, p. 292 ff. and pl. 2; cf. Bethe’s _Prolegomena zur Geschichte des Theaters im Altertum_, p. 320, 330, and p. 35 above.

2. Amphora from Canosa. Naples, no. 3225. Pub. Minervini, _Memorie accademiche_, pl. 1–3; cf. Vogel, p. 39.

3. Amphora in Naples, no. 708, _Museo S. Angelo_. Pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ ix. 38; cf. _Annali d. Inst._ 1872, p. 108 f., and Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 41.

4. Hydria from Anzi in the Basilicata. Brit. Mus., cat. iv. F 185; cf. Vogel, p. 42. C.

_Antigone._

1. Ruvo amphora. Jatta coll. no. 423. Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1871, pl. 40. 2, and by Heydemann, _Ueber eine nacheuripideische Tragödie_, 1868, pl. 1, and _Mon. d. Inst._ x. 26, 27. Polychrome view of whole vase on pl. 26 = Rayet et Collignon, _Histoire de la Céramique grecque_, pl. 12, p. 300.

2. Apulian amphora. Berlin, no. 3240. Pub. Gerhard, _Apulische Vasenbilder_, xi = _Arch. Ztg._ 1871, pl. 40. 1. Cf. Heydemann, _op. cit._ and Klügmann, _Annali d. Inst._ 1876, p. 173 ff., and Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 50 ff.

3. Fragment of Apulian amphora in Carlsruhe; Winnefeld’s _Beschreibung der Vasensammlung_, p. 62 f. Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1884, pl. 19. b = _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. E. 6. 3. Cf. Winckler in _Aus der Onomia_, p. 149 ff.

_Antiope._

1. Apulian krater found near Syracuse. Berlin, no. 3296. Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1878, pl. 7 and 8; cf. _ibid._ p. 42 ff, and Robert, _Bild und Lied_, p. 36; Vogel, p. 60 f.

_Bellerophon._

1. Ruvo amphora. Pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ iv. 21 = _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. viii, pl. 8. 1. Cf. _Annali d. Inst._ 1845, p. 227.

_Chrysippos._

1. Ruvo amphora. Naples, no. 1769. Pub. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, 1. 2.

2. Apulian amphora. Berlin, no. 3239. Pub. Overbeck, _op. cit._ 1. 1.

3. An abridgement of the foregoing. Pub. _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. 6, II. 2 = Roscher’s _Lexikon_, i. p. 903; cf. Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 137 f.

_Hypsipyle._

1. Lasimos amphora in the Louvre. Pub. Reinach-Millin, _Peintures_, ii. 37 = Overbeck, _op. cit._ pl. 28. 1. Cf. Vogel, p. 98 f.

2. Ruvo amphora. Naples, no. 3255. Pub. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 4. 3 = Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, i. p. 114; cf. Vogel, p. 99 f.

3. Ruvo amphora. St. Petersburg, no. 523. Pub. Overbeck, _op. cit._ pl. 4. 2; cf. Vogel, _loc. cit._

_Meleagros._

1. Apulian amphora. Naples, _Mus. S. Angelo_, no. 11, A. Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1867, pl. 220.

_Stheneboia._

1. Krater in Naples, No. 1891. Pub. _Annali d. Inst._ 1874, pl. A.

2. Krater in St. Petersburg, no. 427. Pub. Inghirami, _Vasi fitt._ i. pl. 1–3; cf. Engelmann in _Annali_, 1874, p. 35 f., and Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 85 f.

_Telephos._

1. Hydria in Naples. Heydemann, _Raccolta Cumana_, no. 141. Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1857, pl. 106.

2. Tischbein, _Vases d’Hamilton_, ii. 6; cf. Jahn, _Telephos und Troilos_, p. 44, and Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 89 ff.

INDEX

N.B.—All references are to pages.

Accius, 11.

Aischylos, authority of, in Magna Graecia, 55, 66, 81 f. ἦθος of, 80. statue of, 6. _Agam._, 58, 112. _Choe._, 17, 21, 43 ff., 58. _Eumen._, 35, 55 ff., scenes of, 69 f. _Iph._, 12, 23. _Lykurgeia_, 23, 74. _Niobe_, 8. Ὅπλων Κρίσις, 31, note 2. _Pentheus_, 88, 91. _Phrygians_, 74. _Prom._, 27. _Telephos_, 23.

Andronicus (Livius), 11, 82.

Antiope, myth of, 9.

Assteas, 70, note 1, 179.

Choregos, prize of, 5 f.

Comedy, on vases, 40, note 2.

Dante, influence of on art, 1 ff. Botticelli’s drawings for, 155.

Dirke, monuments of, 9.

Divinities, on vases, 110.

Ekkyklema, 66 f., 160.

Ennius, 11, 26, 82, 112.

Etruscans, art of, 10 ff., 27, note 6.

Euphronios, 31 f., 157.

Euripides, Aristotle’s criticism of, 79 f. influence of, 26, 28 f. πάθος of, 79 f. _Aiolos_, 179. _Alexandros_, 12. _Alkestis_, 7, 16, 27, 178. _Alkmene_, 14, 179. _Andromache_, 83, 178. _Andromeda_, 23, 35, 180. _Antigone_, 180. _Antiope_, 9, 13, 26, 180. _Auge_, 8. _Bakchai_, 25, 88 ff. _Bellerophon_, 180. _Chrysippos_, 180 f. _Elektra_, 50, 178. _Hekabe_, 21, 94 ff. _Herakleidai_, 23. _Herakles Fur._, 163 f., 179. _Hippolytos_, 17, 25, 101 ff., 179. _Hypsipyle_, 181. _Ion_, 179. _Iph. A._, 23, 25, 112 ff., 179. _Iph. T._, 13, 17 f., 25 f., 121 ff. _Kretes_, 14, 20, 27. _Kyklops_, 35, 139 ff. _Medeia_, 13, 19, 23, 144 ff. _Melanippe_, 14. _Meleagros_, 14, 20, 26, 181. _Oedipus_, 13, 19. _Oinomaos_, 14. _Philoktetes_, 21. _Phoin._, 14, 19, 171 ff. _Rhesos_, 32. _Stheneboia_, 181. _Telephos_, 8, 12, 23, 31, 181. _Theseus_, 14, 24.

_Flugmaschine_, 160.

Homer, 3, 34.

Laokoön, 9 f.

Lyssa, 163, 171.

Niobe, group, 8 f.

Oedipus, banishment of, 177.

Oistros, 162 ff.

Orpheus, relief of, 4 f.

Paeuvius, 12, 82.

Parrhasios, 23 f., 34.

Peirithoös, relief, 4.

Peliades, relief, 4.

Pergamon, frieze, 7.

Polygnotos, 21 f., 95, 110.

Polyxena, 21, 95.

Praxiteles, 6, 9.

Python, 70, note 1.

Seilanion, ‘Iokaste’ of, 7.

Skopas, 9.

Sophokles, influence of, on art, 75 ff. statue of, 6. _Antigone_, 75, 77. _Elektra_, 50. _Iphigeneia_, 12, 23. _Lakainai_, 35. _Laokoön_, 10. _Mysoi_, 8. _Niobe_, 8. _Niptra_, 36, note 3. _Oed. Rex_, 77. _Oinomaos_, 14. _Phaidra_, 101. _Philoktetes_, 13, 19, 21. _Polyxene_, 21. _Trachiniai_, 77. _Troilos_, 32.

Tarentum, 37 ff., 66, 82.

Timanthes, 23, 25, 34, 113, 140.

Timomachus, 23, 138.

Tragedy, Roman and Greek, 11, 82.

Zeuxis, 24.

Footnote 1:

F.-W. no. 1198; pub. in Brunn’s _Vorlegeblätter_, no. 18, and Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, ii. p. 1121.

Footnote 2:

Benndorf und Schöne, _Die Bildwerke des Lateranensischen Museums_. no. 92 = F.-W. no. 1200; pub. in Brunn’s _Vorlegeblätter_, no. 17.

Footnote 3:

F.-W. no. 1201; pub. in _Museo Torlonia_, pl. 93, no. 377. This is the youngest of the three, but the original still belongs to the period just after the completion of the Parthenon.

Footnote 4:

Cf. _Griechische Weihgeschenke_, p. 130 ff.

Footnote 5:

Cf. Isaeus v. 41, and Xen. _Hieron_, ix. 4.

Footnote 6:

_Athen. Mitth._ 1878, p. 233; Ἀθήναιον B. vii. p. 93.

Footnote 7:

1. 20. 1.

Footnote 8:

Cf. _C. I. A._ ii. 3, 1298, and _Anth. Pal._ vi. 239.

Footnote 9:

_Loc. cit._

Footnote 10:

1. 21. 1 and 2.

Footnote 11:

Pub. _Athen. Mitth._ 1882, pl. 14; cf. F.-W. no. 1135.

Footnote 12:

Furtwängler, _Sammlung Sabouroff_, p. 31.

Footnote 13:

Cf. F.-W. no. 1843, 1844, and Jahn’s _Archäologische Beiträge_, p. 198 ff.

Footnote 14:

Cf. Overbeck’s _Schriftquellen_, no. 1128.

Footnote 15:

F.-W. no. 1242.

Footnote 16:

I follow Robert. Cf. _Thanatos_, p. 37 ff.

Footnote 17:

Cf. Robert in _Jahrbuch_, 1887, p. 244 ff.

Footnote 18:

F.-W. 1402. Cf. Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ 36, 34.

Footnote 19:

One may distinguish two distinct moments in works of art based upon the Antiope myth. (1) The two sons of Antiope have the unfortunate Dirke all but fastened to the bull, which is being held only with the utmost exertion. (2) The catastrophe ensues. The wild animal is dragging his victim over the ground. It need not be said that the most celebrated representation of (1) is the _toro farnese_. For (2), cf. a wall painting, pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1878, pl. 9, _a_ and _b_. The myth was wonderfully popular and appears on coins, gems, reliefs, &c., all of which belong to the period when tragic influence predominated in art. Cf. Dilthey, _Arch. Ztg._ 1878, p. 43 ff. and Jahn, _ibid._, 1853, p. 65–105.

Footnote 20:

F.-W. no. 1422. Cf. Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ 36, 37.

Footnote 21:

Robert, _Bild und Lied_, p. 192 ff., contends against the influence of Sophokles.

Footnote 22:

Cic. _de opt. gen. orat._ 1. 1.

Footnote 23:

Velleius, 1. 17. 1.

Footnote 24:

The favourite subject was the murder of Troïlos.

Footnote 25:

Brunn, _op. cit._ pl. 1–16; cf. Schlie, _Die Darstellungen des troischen Sagenkreises auf etruskischen Aschenkisten_, p. 13 ff.

Footnote 26:

_Poet._ 1453^a. 21.

Footnote 27:

_Op. cit._ pl. 26–34, gives eighteen reliefs.

Footnote 28:

Cf. p. 113 f.

Footnote 29:

Brunn, _op. cit._ pl. 69–72; cf. especially nos. 1, 2 and 3. The remaining four are not Sophoklean and betray an admixture of different elements. Odysseus bathes the afflicted foot of Philoktetes on nos. 6 and 7.

Footnote 30:

_Op. cit._ p. 155; cf. pl. 74–83.

Footnote 31:

_Op. cit._ pl. 84–85. The attitude of ‘Iphigeneia’ causes some difficulty in this interpretation. Cf. her part on the other monuments.

Footnote 32:

Cf. p. 124 ff. below.

Footnote 33:

Körte, _op. cit._ vol. ii. pl. 1. 2.

Footnote 34:

Cf. p. 144 ff.

Footnote 35:

_Op. cit._ vol. ii. pl. 4. 1, 2 and 3. and pl. 5. 4.

Footnote 36:

Cf. schol. Eur. _Phoin._ v. 61, and Nauck’s _Fragmenta_, Eur. no. 541, and _op. cit._ ii. pl. 7. 1.

Footnote 37:

There are twenty-eight in all representing the fratricide, and nine showing the attack; Körte, _I rilievi d. urne etrusche_, ii. pl. 8 24.

Footnote 38:

_Op. cit._ ii. p. 32 ff.

Footnote 39:

Pl. 26–27.

Footnote 40:

Pl. 28–30.

Footnote 41:

Pl. 31–32.

Footnote 42:

Cf. p. 105 f. below.

Footnote 43:

Pl. 39–40. Three in all.

Footnote 44:

Pl. 41–56.

Footnote 45:

One may think of Soph. _Oinom._, called also _Hippodameia_, and of Eur. _Oinom._ The latter seems to have been followed by Accius.

Footnote 46:

Pl. 62; cf. also _op. cit._ ii. p. 150 ff.

Footnote 47:

Pl. 100–104.

Footnote 48:

The monumental publication, which is now appearing under the direction of the German Imperial Archaeological Institute, will, when completed, place within one’s reach all this immense material. The projected plan embraces six volumes of which the second has so far appeared: _Die Antiken Sarkophag-Reliefs_, ii. 1890, edited by Carl Robert. The third part is to embrace three vols., so that we have in the _Antiken Sarkophag-Reliefs_, iii. 1897, Carl Robert, only the first vol.

Footnote 49:

Robert, _op. cit._ iii. part i, pl. 6–7. Nos. 22, 23, 24, 26 are all practically intact and agree closely with each other. Nos. 27–30 are larger or smaller fragments.

Footnote 50:

Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1875, pl. 9 = Robert, _op. cit._ iii. part i, pl. 7. 32 = Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, i. p. 46.

Footnote 51:

P. 101 ff.

Footnote 52:

Robert, _op. cit._ ii. p. 165.

Footnote 53:

Robert, _Die antiken Sark.-Reliefs_, ii. pl. 54, no. 154.

Footnote 54:

Cf. _op. cit._ ii. pl. 54–56, nos 155–166; vid. also p. 67 below.

Footnote 55:

Robert, _op. cit._ ii. pl. 57–59, nos. 167–180, and p. 124 ff. below.

Footnote 56:

P. 145 ff.

Footnote 57:

Robert, _op. cit._ ii. pl. 60, nos. 183, 184, and p. 191 ff.

Footnote 58:

Robert, _op. cit._ ii. pl. 51, no. 139.

Footnote 59:

Pub. by Robert, _Die Pasiphaë-Sarkophag_, 1890, pl. i.; also _op. cit._ iii. part i, pi. 10. 35, 35^a, 35^b.

Footnote 60:

Cf. Nauck’s _Fragmenta_, no. 472.

Footnote 61:

Cf. Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, ii. p. 917, where the Louvre fragment is published = Clarac, _Musée de Sculpture_, pl. 201, no. 208. A similar scene is shown in no. 256.

Footnote 62:

Paus. 1. 22. 6.

Footnote 63:

Cf. p. 94 ff.

Footnote 64:

Cf. schol. Eur. _Hek._ v. 3, and Nauck’s _Fragmenta_, p. 245 ff.

Footnote 65:

_Homerische Becher_, p. 75; but on p. 25 f. of the _Iliupersis des Polygnot in der Poikile_, Robert refers the picture to Polykleitos on the strength of the epigram (_Anth. Plan._ 3. 30) by Pollianos. The question turns on the reading Πολυκλείτοιο, which has generally been held to be a corruption of Πολυγνώτοιο. But this does not convince me that Polygnotos might not have painted the work in the Propylaia. It is by no means necessary to consider the two paintings identical even if Πολυκλείτοιο must remain.

Footnote 66:

Paus. 10. 25. 2.

Footnote 67:

This was shown by Schneidewin in _Philologus_, 1849, p. 645 ff.

Footnote 68:

Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ 35. 71.

Footnote 69:

Cf. Overbeck, _Schriftquellen_, 1735–1739, and p. 112 f. below.

Footnote 70:

Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ 35, 132, and Helbig, _Wandgemälde_, 1183–1203.

Footnote 71:

Pliny, _op. cit._ 35, 136, and Helbig, _op. cit._ nos. 1189, 1262–1264. The latter is from Herculaneum. Cf. Overbeck, _Schriftquellen_, 2126–2135, for various epigrams touching this painting of Timomachus.

Footnote 72:

Overbeck, _op. cit._ 1642. Cf. Reisch, _Griechische Weihgeschenke_, p. 127.

Footnote 73:

Pliny, _op. cit._ 35, 144; cf. a Pompeian wall painting, pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1883, pl. 9. 1.

Footnote 74:

Paus. 1. 20. 3.

Footnote 75:

Vid. Dörpfeld and Reisch, _Das griechische Theater_, p. 21.

Footnote 76:

Cf. p. 74 below.

Footnote 77:

Cf. Helbig, _op. cit._ Three groups are distinguishable. (1) Nos. 1216–1240, Ariadne forsaken by Theseus. (2) 1222–1232, she mourns in her solitude. (3) 1233–1240, Dionysos comes to her rescue.

Footnote 78:

Helbig, _op. cit._ nos. 1242–1247; cf. p. 108, note 1.

Footnote 79:

Cf. Helbig, _op. cit._ nos. 1304, 1305.

Footnote 80:

Cf. p. 138 below.

Footnote 81:

Helbig, _op. cit._ nos. 1142, 1143.

Footnote 82:

Especially fine is the painting discovered in the _casa dei Vettii_, photo. Alinari, no. 12133; cf. _Röm. Mitth_. 1896, p. 50 f.

Footnote 83:

Cf. _Röm. Mitth_. 1896, p. 45 f., and _Arch. Anz_. 1895, p. 121, photo. Alinari, no. 12134. Pub. _J. H. S._ 1896, p. 151.

Footnote 84:

Helbig, _op. cit._ nos. 1151–1153. The excavations in 1895 added still another to those already known. Vid. _Röm. Mitth_. 1896, p. 46, photo. Alinari, no. 12135. Cf. also _Arch. Ztg_. 1878, pl. 9. _a_ and _b_ for two others.

Footnote 85:

Livius Andronicus, Ennius, and Accius, each wrote an _Andromeda_. Ennius translated the _Medeia_, and chose over half his pieces from Euripides.

Footnote 86:

Gerhard’s _Etruskische Spiegel_, ii. pl. 239, and v. pl. 117.

Footnote 87:

_Op. cit._ iv. pl. 354. 2.

Footnote 88:

Gerhard, _op. cit._ iv. 367. 2. Cf. Euripides’ Κρῆτες.

Footnote 89:

_Op. cit._ iv. pl. 401.

Footnote 90:

_Op. cit._ ii. pl. 229 = Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 14. 1; iv. pl. 390. 2; v. pl. 108.

Footnote 91:

_Op. cit._ v. p. 217.

Footnote 92:

_Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. D. pl. 10. 4 and 5 = _op. cit._ ii. pl. 138. 139. Aischylos was the first to chain Prometheus, and all the monuments representing the giant thus fastened on the cliff are dependent on the _Prometheus_. Cf. Milchhoefer, in _Berliner Winckelmannsprogramm_ for 1882.

Footnote 93:

The question as to where and how the Etruscans came to have so wide a knowledge of Greek poetry will long remain a perplexing one. One thing seems clear, viz., that the Romans did not serve as any connecting link between Greece and Etruria. Greek art as well as Greek letters reached this people direct. It hardly seems probable that translations of the Greek poets were so extensively made by this practical people, that the artists could in this manner have had access to so much that is Euripidean. There is, moreover, a great deal in some of the reliefs that bespeaks a familiarity with the scenes as actually given in the theatre. This leads me to think that the wandering troops of actors had penetrated Etruria also, and introduced the plays of which the Etruscans made so much in their art.

Footnote 94:

Figs. 12, 16, 27, 28; cf. also note 2, p. 95 f.

Footnote 95:

Vid. Lüders, _Die dionysischen Künstler_, Berlin, 1873.

Footnote 96:

Cf. p. 114 ff.

Footnote 97:

The ‘Megarian Bowls’ have much in common with such later monuments as the _tabula iliaca_. Cf. Jahn’s _Bilderchroniken_, and Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, i. no. 775.

Footnote 98:

Jahn, _Telephos und Troilos_, 1841, p. 46 ff., believed that Exekias was indebted to Euripides’ _Telephos_ for the idea of his dice-players; cf. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 14. 4, and _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, 1888, pl. 6. 1^a. We know now that Exekias must have lived nearly 100 years before the date of the _Telephos_.

Footnote 99:

Klein in his _Euphronios_, 1886, p. 236 ff., saw in the Iliupersis kylix, pub. Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, i. no. 795, the workings of Aischylos’ Ὅπλον Κρίσις; in the Euphronios kylix, _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. v. pl. 6, representing the death of Troïlos, a connexion was pointed out with Sophokles’ _Troilos_; and the Dolon kylix, also by Euphronios, cf. _op. cit._ p. 136 f., might be brought under the _Rhesos_ of Euripides.

Footnote 100:

Note especially the Brygos kylix, Brit. Mus., cat. iii. E 65; pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ ix. 46, and _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. viii. 6. Dionysos stands by his altar over which a satyr springs to grasp Iris. Others of the tribe make merry. Cf. also Brit. Mus., cat. iii. E 768; pub. _Wiener Vorlegebl._ ser. vii. 4, in the style of Euthymides. Seilenos in herald’s dress is in the midst of a long train of satyrs.

Footnote 101:

The main scene is published and discussed by Dümmler in _Rheinisches Museum_, 1888, p. 355 ff.

Footnote 102:

Cf. the Peiraieus frag. pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1880, pl. 16. Other examples of later styles are included by Reisch, _Griech. Weihgeschenke_, p. 68 ff. Vid. further the list in _Arch. Ztg._ 1880, p. 182 f.

Footnote 103:

Gerhard, _Auser. Vasen_, pl. 56, and Reinach-Millin, _Peintures_, i. 9.

Footnote 104:

Berlin, inv. no. 3237. Pub. and discussed by Bethe, _Jahrbuch_, 1896, p. 292 ff. and pl. 2; cf. Furtwängler, _Arch. Anz._ 1893, p. 91 f.

Footnote 105:

P. 141 ff.

Footnote 106:

No. 3235, A. Pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ ii. pl. 36; Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 24. 19; cf. Furtwängler, _Masterpieces_, p. 152 f.

Footnote 107:

Fig. 8, and p. 63 f.

Footnote 108:

Heydemann’s cat. no. 3240. Pub. Müller-Wieseler, _Theater-gebäude_, pl. 6. 2; Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, i. fig. 422.

Footnote 109:

iv. 115–117. Cf. also Bethe, _Prolegomena zur Geschichte des Theaters im Altertum_, p. 42.

Footnote 110:

The Penelope vase, pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ ix. pl. 42 = Baumeister’s _Denkmäler_, iii. no. 2332, has lately been explained by Robert as being based on Soph. Νίπτρα. Cf. _Die Marathonschlacht in der Poikile_, p. 78 ff. If I could accept this view my position would be very materially strengthened. The Νίπτρα must be set _cir._ 428 B.C., and this means that the painting is later than this date. Much as I should like to bring this important monument into connexion with the drama, I cannot think of a later date for the vase than 440 B.C., which to be sure renders its relation to Sophokles impossible. If, however, Professor Robert be correct, it shows that there is at least one vase painting of the fifth century that represents a form of a myth which belonged to the theatre, and this was not granted in _Bild und Lied_.

Footnote 111:

Cf. Gardner’s _Types of Greek Coins_, pl. v. nos. 17–20, and Furtwängler’s _Masterpieces_, p. 105 ff., with the very instructive collection of Italian and Sicilian coins which shows the Attic influence in this period.

Footnote 112:

Cf. Mommsen, _Unteritalische Dialekte_, p. 89 ff.

Footnote 113:

_De leg._ 1. 637^c.

Footnote 114:

Dio Cassius, 39. 3. 6.

Footnote 115:

Zonaris, viii. 2. 370, καὶ τὸ θέατρον ἔκλεισε.

Footnote 116:

Cf. figs. 5, 6, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23.

Footnote 117:

The large class of Lower Italy vases that illustrate scenes from comedy are priceless treasures. They are based on the ‘farce-plays,’ φλύακες τραγικοί—the invention of Rhinthon (vid. _Rhinthonis Fragmenta_, Halle, dissertation by E. Völker, 1887); cf. especially Heydemann, _Jahrbuch_, 1886, p. 260 ff., where all the examples then known are discussed. Bethe, _Prolegomena zur Geschichte des Theaters im Altertum_, p. 278–292, handles particularly the interesting question of the stage represented in the scenes.

Mention should be made also of Körte’s excellent article in the _Jahrbuch_ for 1893, p. 61–93, on _Archaeologische Studien zur alten Komödie_.

Footnote 118:

Robert’s conclusion in regard to the literary source of all the monuments (_Bild und Lied_, p. 149 ff.) is that they go back to the _Oresteia_ of Stesichoros. This view has been generally accepted by archaeologists, and met with no opposition till Wilamowitz showed reason for believing in the existence of a Delphic epic dealing with this subject. The whole question needs another careful investigation.

Footnote 119:

Pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ vi. pl. 57. 1 = Roscher’s _Lexikon_, i. p. 1238. Cf. Robert, _op. cit._ p. 167 ff.

Footnote 120:

Naples, no. 1755, pub. Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, iii. 1939 = Reinach-Millingen, _Peintures_, pl. 14.

Footnote 121:

Fig. 2. Pub. Raoul-Rochette, _Monuments inédits_, pl. 34. Cf. _ibid._ p. 159 ff.; Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 28. 5; cf. text _ibid._, p. 688 ff.; Inghirami, _Vasi fitt._ ii. pl. 151.

Footnote 122:

Cf. figs. 14, 15, 23, 24 for the regulation dress of the pedagogue.

Footnote 123:

Cf. note 2, p. 44.

Footnote 124:

Munich coll. Jahn’s cat. no. 814. The figure of Elektra alone together with the view of the tomb is published by Inghirami, _Vasi fitt._ ii. pl. 154.

Footnote 125:

Pub. Inghirami, _op. cit._ ii. pl. 153.

Footnote 126:

An amphora, no. 544. The painting has not been published so far as I know, but the similarity it bears to figs. 3 and 4 appeared to me to render a publication of it here unnecessary.

Footnote 127:

Cf. παρ’ οὐδετέρω κεῖται ἡ μυθοποιία of the Hypothesis.

Footnote 128:

Cf. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 29, and Raoul-Rochette, _Mon. inéd._ pl. 35–38.

Footnote 129:

Cat. no. 349; pub. _Compte Rendu_, 1864, pl. 6. 5; cf. Stephani, _ibid._ p. 252 ff.

Footnote 130:

Cf. a similar figure with the key in figs. 6, 18, 20. In the latter cases Iphigeneia is the priestess.

Footnote 131:

v. 1061.

Footnote 132:

v. 35.

Footnote 133:

Vid my _Attitude of the Greek Tragedians toward Art_, p. 12 ff., for a discussion of this passage.

Footnote 134:

So Eur. _Orest._ v. 321; _Elekt._ v. 1345.

Footnote 135:

Naples, no. 3249, photo, Alinari, 11296, from which fig. 6 is taken. The painting was published by Jahn, _Vasenbilder_, 1839, pl. 1. 1, from a drawing. Jahn himself had not seen the vase. The drawing does the fine picture so little justice that I could not think of reproducing it. The work on the vase is wonderfully clear and strong. Every figure is in itself a beautiful work of art. The picture presents an unusual variety of situations that are artistically of great interest.

Footnote 136:

Cf. also fig. 8.

Footnote 137:

No. 3256. Pub. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 29. 4; general view of the whole vase, Gerhard’s _Apulische Vasen_. pl. A. 6. Another painting, a late work and wretchedly done, somewhat similar, is published in _Arch. Ztg._ 1877, pl. 4. 11.

Footnote 138:

Fig. 8. Pub. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 29. 7; _Mon. d. Inst._ iv. pl. 48; _Arch. Ztg._ 1860, pl. 138. 2; Baumeister’s _Denkmäler_, ii. p. 1117; Rayet et Collignon, _Histoire de la céramique grecque_, p. 297.

Footnote 139:

Vid. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 29. 11, and 12.

Footnote 140:

Cf. vs. 67, 84, 91.

Footnote 141:

This view is maintained by Dörpfeld and Reisch, _Das griechische Theater_, p. 243 ff. In reply to this vid. Robert in _Hermes_, vol. 32, p. 439 ff. Vid. also Bethe, _Prolegomena zur Geschichte des Theaters im Altertum_, pp. 112–116, where this point in the production of the _Eumenides_ is ably discussed.

Footnote 142:

Cf. this scene on the Sarcophagi reliefs. Robert, _Die antiken Sarkophag-Reliefs_, ii. pl. 54–56, nos. 155–161, the right end scene; also no. 157^1, p. 173.

Footnote 143:

Cf. the ghosts of Aigisthos and Klytaimestra on the end reliefs of the Sarcophagus, no. 155, _op. cit._

Footnote 144:

_Orest._ 408, 1650; _Tro._ 457; cf. also the relief found near Argos, pub. _Athen. Mitth._ 1879, pl. 9 = Roscher’s _Lexikon_, i. p. 1330.

Footnote 145:

Wilamowitz, _Aischylos Orestie, Zweites Stück_, 1896, p. 246 ff., has shown the plausibility of believing in such an epic. The author was a Delphian.

Footnote 146:

A few fragments remain from the _Oresteia_ of Stesichoros. Cf. Bergk-Schaefer, _Poetae lyrici graeci_, iii. p. 219 ff.

Footnote 147:

Opinions vary on this point. Three different views are held. (1) The temple of Athena remains the scene throughout the rest of the play; the Areiopagos (v. 685) becomes then merely a part of the stage decorations given by the periaktoi. (2) Between v. 235 and v. 685 the scene was changed from the Acropolis to the Areiopagos. (3) There is no scene from v. 235 other than the Areiopagos. The latter seems to me absolutely untenable. Repeated allusion is made to the temple and to Orestes clinging to the old image in the δῶμα (v. 242 ff.). Regarding the first and second, it makes little difference whether the scene was in fact shifted or whether it was represented on the wings. The practical working was the same in either case.

Footnote 148:

The present whereabouts of the vase is not known. Pub. Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, ii. p. 1118; Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 29. 9; Reinach-Millingen, _Peintures_, ii. 68; also as frontispiece to the 4th ed. of Paley’s _Aeschylus_. He disposes of it in a line or two, and, with the usual accuracy which characterizes philologists when dealing with matters of archaeology, says the vase is ‘probably nearly contemporaneous’ with the _Eumenides_ (p. 584). The composition is remarkably like the Assteas painting, _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. i. pl. 7. The figures of Apollo and Kadmos, as well as the two Athenas, have much in common. There is the same roundness and plumpness in the figures. Furthermore, Assteas was partial to bust figures and never lost an opportunity to introduce them. The border on the veil of the female bust of our vase is Campanian, as are also certain other details. All this brings me to the opinion that Assteas, who was very likely from Paestum and may have been in touch with Campanian styles as well, was the painter of our vase. It is at least from the school of Assteas. A painting by Python (_J. H. S._ 1890, pl. 6), one of the set of Assteas, exhibits the same treatment of hair and decoration that is found on the painting, fig. 9.

Footnote 149:

These feathers, for that is what these projections are, can be counted on dozens of helms belonging to this period. Athena and warriors wear them alike. Their occurrence before the latter part of the fourth century B.C. is unknown to me.

Footnote 150:

Cf. Aisch. _Supp._ v. 463.

Footnote 151:

Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1860, pl. 137. 4 = Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 29. 8.

Footnote 152:

Vid. _Arch. Anz._ 1890, p. 90.

Footnote 153:

It is worth noting that, when viewed both from the artistic in his plays and the art that was an outgrowth of his plays, Sophokles occupies the same position as regards Aischylos and Euripides. Cf. my _Attitude of the Greek Tragedians toward Art_, p. 32 ff.

Footnote 154:

P. 35, note 3, and p. 36, note 3.

Footnote 155:

_Poet._ 1450^a. 25.

Footnote 156:

_Rep._ 8. 568^a.

Footnote 157:

C. 29.

Footnote 158:

Athen. p. 537; cf. Plut. _Alex._ c. 10 and 53.

Footnote 159:

Athen. p. 175.

Footnote 160:

This fact comes out particularly in Polybios; cf. Susemihl, _Geschichte der griech. Litteratur in der Alexanderzeit_, ii. p. 119.

Footnote 161:

_C. I. A._ ii. 973 is the authority for this occurrence in the years 341–39 B.C.

Footnote 162:

6. 3. 5.

Footnote 163:

Cf. _Nem._ 7. v. 49 ff.

Footnote 164:

Vid. Hypothesis: τὸ δὲ δρᾶμα τῶν δευτέρον.

Footnote 165:

Fig. 10; no. 239 in the Jatta catalogue. Pub. _Annali d. Inst._ 1868, pl. E = Engelmann’s _Atlas zum Homer_, ii. _Odyssee_, pl. 4. 18; cf. Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 36 ff.

Footnote 166:

Cf. similar figures in figs. 6, 18, 20.

Footnote 167:

The composition is strikingly like that in fig. 18. The two temples are exact counterparts of each other. The altars likewise and the Apollo figures have much in common. Most important of all is the fact that in both pictures the chief persons are denoted by inscriptions. It should be observed further that both vases are of the same style, amphoras with volute handles, and both were found in Ruvo. These facts lead me to believe that one and the same artist may have been the painter of both works.

Footnote 168:

Cf. figs. 6, 7, 18, 20, 21, 23.

Footnote 169:

The 26th idyll of Theokritos should also be counted with the _Bakchai_.

Footnote 170:

Suidas s. v. Thespis.

Footnote 171:

But one verse remains, Nauck’s _Fragmenta_, no. 183.

Footnote 172:

A psykter in the Bourguignon coll., Naples; pub. _Jahrbuch_, 1892, pl. 5. The vase belongs to the Epiktetos set, and may be dated _cir._ 500 B.C.

Footnote 173:

The following, given by Hartwig, _Jahrbuch_, 1892, p. 154 ff., may be mentioned as supplementing the list in Jahn’s well-known essay, _Pentheus und die Mainaden_, Kiel, 1841.

(1) Attic pyxis, Louvre; pub. _Jahrbuch_, 1892, p. 156; date 420–400 B.C.

(2) Kylix in _Museo di Papa Giulio_, Rome, described by Hartwig, _op. cit._ p. 163, who thinks it may have well been influenced by Euripides, but he sets the date of the _Bakchai_ at 410 B.C.! I have not seen the vase nor any publication of it, but should infer from Hartwig’s description that it is older than the tragedy.

Footnote 174:

Lucanian fabric, no. 807 in Jahn’s cat., pub. Jahn’s _Pentheus und die Mainaden_, pl. ii. a; Reinach-Millingen, _Peintures_, pl. 5 = Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, ii. no. 1396.

Footnote 175:

The original shows no trace of the fire that is so prominent in the publications. There can, however, be no doubt that a _burning_ torch was meant, if not so painted originally.

Footnote 176:

vs. 954 ff., 1052, 1061 ff.

Footnote 177:

P. 25 above. It should be noted that this is the first example of a Pentheus scene discovered in Pompeii or Herculaneum.

Footnote 178:

P. 23 above.

Footnote 179:

The episode seems to have been first told in the Ἰλίου Πέρσις of Arktinos. Polyxena being led by Neoptolemos to the tomb of Achilles appears on an Attic bl. fig. vase of _cir._ 550 B.C., vid. Berlin cat. 1902; pub. Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 27. 17. Two gems of the severe style in the Berlin Antiquarium (nos. 489, 490), pub. Overbeck, _op. cit._ pl. 27. 13 and 14, also represent the sacrifice. The painting in the Pinakotheke of the Propylaia may have been by Polygnotos (cf. p. 21 above), and if it was, Euripides no doubt had often seen it. This showed her about to be sacrificed; Paus. 1. 22. 6.

Footnote 180:

‘Megarian Bowls’ is a name applied to a class of small cups decorated with a band of relief. The ware is red or black, and appears both in glazed and unglazed form. The largest number of the vases has been found in Megara, hence the name ‘Megarian.’ As many have been discovered also in Boeotia and other places, the present terminology is somewhat misleading. Examples of this ware are to be found in every large museum in Europe. The British Museum possesses no less than nine such cups, and fragments from fourteen others (vid. cat. iv. pp. 251–256). The reliefs illustrate mostly scenes from the Theban and Trojan Cycles. Whether the terra cotta presented a cheap way of reproducing silver and gold cups, which were highly prized, and served therefore the place of our casts, or whether the bowls were made from special moulds and are to be considered independent works of art, is quite uncertain. The fact that there are in existence three copies of the same work, each agreeing in every detail with the others, would seem to point to the former supposition. Robert, who has handled this set of monuments most thoroughly, distinguishes two classes: (1) the whole vase is cast from one mould; (2) the reliefs having been made separately are stamped on the ready bowl. Vid. especially Robert’s _Homerische Becher_ for the whole question; cf. also p. 27 ff. above.

Footnote 181:

Fig. 12, pub. by Robert, _op. cit._ p. 73 ff.

Footnote 182:

Fig. 13: pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ ii. pl. 12; Welcker, _Alte Denkmäler_, iii. pl. 23. 2; Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 28. 2.

Footnote 183:

The first play belonged to the trilogy containing the _Aigeus_ and _Theseus_, which made up a set of purely Attic interest. It is well known that Euripides deepened and widened the belief in the Athenian heroic period.

Footnote 184:

Suidas names an _Hippolytos_ of Lykophron—a poet of Alexandria.

Footnote 185:

The _Phaedra_ seems to have followed the first _Hippolytos_ of Euripides.

Footnote 186:

Cf. _Met._ 15, vs. 497 ff., and _Heroid._ 4.

Footnote 187:

Cat. iv. F 272, pub. by Braun, _Mon. ed Annali_, 1854, pl. 16; Engelmann’s _Atlas zum Homer_, ii, _Odyssee_, pl. 15. 93. First correctly interpreted by Heydemann, _Arch. Ztg._ 1871, p. 158 ff.; cf. also Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 66 f., and Kalkmann, _Arch. Ztg._ 1883, p. 62 ff. The vase is Apulian ware. The lower zone represents the violence of the Centaurs at the marriage of Peirithoös’ daughter, Laodameia. Theseus and the father are seen rushing to the help of the bride.

Footnote 188:

The fact that no succession of events, where one person appears more than once, can be found in Hellenic art, forbids us interpreting this group as again Phaidra and an attendant. I cannot, however, rid myself of the feeling that the figure leaning on the _kline_ is not a servant, but is more in rank with Phaidra. Her rôle is more than that of the other attendants. This is shown by her attitude and dress. Her appearance is exactly that required for Phaidra after she had ordered her attendants to lift her up, remove her veil, and allow her hair to drop over her shoulders (vs. 198–202).

Footnote 189:

Cf. the part of the pedagogue on the Medeia vase, fig. 23, p. 146.

Footnote 190:

There are, besides, fragments of several other reliefs. For the literature vid. Kalkmann, _Arch. Ztg._ 1883, p. 65 ff., and Jahn, _Arch. Beiträge_, p. 300 ff.

Footnote 191:

Cf. vs. 201 ff.

Footnote 192:

Pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1847, pl. 5 and 6.

Footnote 193:

Pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ vi. pl. 1, 2, 3.

Footnote 194:

So on the Constantinople relief, pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1857, pl. 100 = Brunn’s _Vorlegeblätter_, pl. 9. 3; and on the Girgenti sarcophagi; cf. note 1 above.

Footnote 195:

Clarac, _Musée de Sculpture_, pl. 213, no. 228, and _Mon. d. Inst._ viii. pl. 38. 1 = _Wiener Vorlegeblätter_, ser. 5, pl. 12, and Gerhard, _Antike Bildwerke_, pl. 26.

Footnote 196:

A number of vase paintings interpreted as Phaidra are not included here since they all admit of a variety of interpretations. Vid. p. 179 below.

Footnote 197:

The remarkable feature in these reliefs that shows non-Euripidean influence is the letter which the old nurse hands to Hippolytos. This points to another handling of the myth, where the former confined herself to a written statement rather than a word of mouth proposal. Strikingly in harmony with Euripides, however, is the position of the trophos. She grasps Hippolytos’ elbow—ναὶ πρός δε τῆσδε δεξιᾶς εὐωλένου (v. 605). Cf. also the Pompeian wall painting, _Mus. Borbonico_, 8, pl. 52. This and other wall paintings represent the scene between Hippolytos and the nurse as taking place in the presence of Phaidra, who sits quite alone.

Footnote 198:

Cf. fig. 15. Cat. vol. iv. F 279; pub. by Kalkmann, _Arch. Ztg._ 1883, pl. 6; vid. _ibid._ p. 43 ff.

Footnote 199:

Cf. a similar group in fig. 23.

Footnote 200:

The same group of divinities, with the exception of Apollo, occurs on the Naples amphora, no. 3256, pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ ii. 30, and Robert, _Die Marathonschlacht_, p. 37; Robert calls attention to the fact that this is an essentially Athenian assembly. Poseidon, Athena, and Pan were inseparably associated with the Acropolis, the latter, of course, after the battle of Marathon. The Naples vase represents a battle between Greeks and barbarians, and according to Robert’s theory is dependent upon Polygnotos’ painting in the Stoa Poikile. As participants and spectators the gods occur in the upper section. Athena, indeed, whirls into line on her chariot. If this ingenious theory has hit the gist of the matter regarding the Naples painting, then we may also claim the group of gods on the Hippolytos vase as peculiarly Athenian. And such would be very appropriate for a picture that represented an Attic tragedy, whose hero had a cult under the shadow of the Acropolis.

Footnote 201:

vs. 1199 ff.

Footnote 202:

v. 1214; cf. also Ovid, _Met._ 15. 512, where the bull is described as having his breast half out of the water.

Footnote 203:

Bk. ii. 4.

Footnote 204:

_Nat. Hist._ 35. 114.

Footnote 205:

Cf. _Mon. d. Inst._ vi. pl. 2; _Arch. Ztg._ 1847, pl. 6.

Footnote 206:

Körte, _I rilievi delle urne etrusche_, ii. pl. 33–36.

Footnote 207:

The urn in the _Brit. Mus._, no. 6, pl. 36, _op. cit._, has two such figures.

Footnote 208:

So Bergk and Ribbeck.

Footnote 209:

v. 234 ff.

Footnote 210:

Pliny, 35. 73, says of the picture, _oratorum laudibus celebrata_. Numerous mentions are in fact made of it by the orators. Cf. especially Cic. _Orat._ 22. 74. Vid. further, Brunn’s _Griech. Künstler_, ii. p. 82 ff.

Footnote 211:

Discovered April 30, 1825, in the house of the ‘Tragic Poet’; pub. Baumeister, _Denkmäler_, i. no. 807 = photo, Alinari, 12027. Vid. Helbig, _Campanische Wandgemälde_, no. 1304. Here, however, Iphigeneia is being carried (cf. Aisch. _Agam._ _loc. cit._), while Pliny speaks of her as _stans_ in Timanthes’ painting.

Footnote 212:

Pub. Baumeister, _op. cit._ i. 806; vid. F.-W. no. 2143.

Footnote 213:

Vid. Michaelis in _Röm. Mitth._ 1893, p. 201 ff.; cf. p. 4 above.

Footnote 214:

Brunn, _I rilievi delle urne etrusche_, i. pl. 35–47. There are altogether twenty-six reliefs, of which twenty-one belong to Perugia. Cf. Schlie, _Die Darstellungen des troischen Sagenkreises auf etruskischen Aschenkisten_, p. 60 f.

Footnote 215:

_Op. cit._ p. 81 f., but cf. my remarks on p. 10 ff.

Footnote 216:

Pub. by Robert, _Homerische Becher_, p. 51.

Footnote 217:

A second in Athens, pub. Ἐφ. Ἀρχ. 1887, pl. 5; a third, on the authority of Furtwängler (vid. Robert, _loc. cit._), in the Branthegem coll. in Brussels.

Footnote 218:

So at least one thinks of the case. Agamemnon ought to have been inside at this moment, shut off from the public gaze. The Greek drama, however, had to bring outside, before the public as it were, even those delicate scenes such as the present where the _interior_ of Agamemnon’s tent should have been the scene.

Footnote 219:

The name occurs six times on the vase, and is always without an N. This is strong epigraphical evidence that our spelling Klytaim_n_estra is incorrect.

Footnote 220:

P. 113 f.

Footnote 221:

Vid. p. 179.

Footnote 222:

Cf. Aisch. _Agam._ v. 224 ff.; Eur. _Iph. T._ v. 8 and 360; _Iph. A._ v. 873, 875, 935, 1177, are hardly to be taken in the literal sense.

Footnote 223:

_Elekt._ v. 157 and schol.

Footnote 224:

Cf. Proklos in Argum. to _Kypria_.

Footnote 225:

Frag. 123, and Paus. 1. 43. 1.

Footnote 226:

Bk. iv, ch. 103, and Paus. _loc. cit._

Footnote 227:

Vid. Suidas s.v.

Footnote 228:

1456^a. 6; 1453^b. 11.

Footnote 229:

Ribbeck, _Die römische Tragödie_, p. 50.

Footnote 230:

Ribbeck thinks of Naevius.

Footnote 231:

For these last two scenes as well as the others, vid. Robert, _Die antiken Sarkophag-Reliefs_, vol. ii. pl. 57–59, and p. 165 f. and 177 ff.

Footnote 232:

Fig. 17, from Raoul-Rochette, _Mon. inéd._ pl. 41. Heydemann, _cat. Santangelo_, no. 24; cf. Trendelenburg in _Annali d. Inst._ 1872, p. 114.

Footnote 233:

Vid. Robert, _op. cit._ nos. 157^b, 168, 171.

Footnote 234:

A wall painting from Herculaneum, pub. _Pitture di Ercolano_, i. pl. 12; Overbeck’s _Bildwerke_, pl. 30. 9; cf. Helbig, _Campanische Wandgemälde_, no. 1334. Another painting from Pompeii is published in _Arch. Ztg._ 1875, pl. 13; for the same on pastes and gems cf. Overbeck, _op. cit._ pl. 30, and Furtwängler’s _Beschreibung der geschnittenen Steine im Antiquarium_ (Berlin), nos. 791 ff.

Footnote 235:

Fig. 18 from a Ruvo amphora in Naples. Heydemann, no. 3223. Pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ ii. pl. 43; Overbeck, _Bildwerke_, pl. 30. 4. Vid. _Annali d. Inst._ vol. ix. p. 198 ff.; _Arch. Ztg._ 1875, p. 137; Vogel, _Scenen eur. Trag._ p. 70 ff.

Footnote 236:

Cf. v. 1463, where the poet says Iphigeneia is to be κλῃδοῦχος for the Brauronian Artemis. In Aisch. _Supp._, also, Io is spoken of as at one time κλῃδοῦχος ἥρας. Cf. v. 291.

Footnote 237:

Cf. the monuments in Overbeck’s _Bildwerke_, pl. 30, that represent this scene; and the central group on the front side of the Munich sarcophagus, _op. cit._ no. 167.

Footnote 238:

Artemis sits on an altar in fig. 21, as do Orestes and Pylades on an Etruscan mirror; vid. Gerhard’s _Etruskische Spiegel_, ii. 239, and v. 117. Neoptolemos jumps upon the βωμός in the _Andromache_ (v. 1123) to avoid his foes. Cf. fig. 10, p. 84.

Footnote 239:

Cf. Robert, _op. cit._ nos. 177 and 178, the Berlin and Weimar Sarcophagi, and no. 180, a fragment in the court of the Palazzo Mattei. Robert properly refers to the next following moment when Orestes and Pylades are left alone with the chorus, Iphigeneia having gone inside to bring the letter. In order to obtain just the sarcophagi scenes we have but to allow Iphigeneia to withdraw after the close of her speech, v. 642.

Footnote 240:

Robert, _op. cit._ pl. 57–59, and p. 165 f. and 177 ff.; _Arch. Ztg._ 1875, p. 134 ff.

Footnote 241:

The two wall paintings published by Overbeck, _Bildwerke_. pl. 30, nos. 31 and 14, and interpreted as representing this same moment, have since been explained by Petersen, _Arch. Ztg._ 1863, p. 113 ff., as belonging to the _Alkestis_. While the former view has been generally given up, the latter has not by any means been everywhere accepted. It is, at most, probable.

Footnote 242:

Fig. 19, pub. _Arch. Ztg._ 1849, pl. 12 = Overbeck, _op. cit._ pl. 30. 7 = _Mon. d. Inst._ iv. pl. 51. Vid. also under ‘Iphigeneia’ in Baumeister, and Roscher. Cf. Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 72 ff., and _Arch. Ztg._ 1875 p. 136.

Footnote 243:

Fig. 20, no. 420, in the cat. of the Hermitage, pub. _Mon. d. Inst._ vi. pl. 66; cf. _Annali d. Inst._ 1862, p. 116 ff., and Stephani in _Compte Rendu_, 1863, p. 159 ff.

Footnote 244:

_Compte Rendu_, _loc. cit._

Footnote 245:

Fig. 21; pub. in the _Bullettino archeologico Napolitano_, 1862, pl. 7, and in Brunn’s _Vorlegeblätter_, pl. 13. 1. Cf. also Vogel, _op. cit._ p. 74 ff.

Footnote 246:

P. 124.

Footnote 247:

Cf., however, Laborde’s _Vases Lamberg_, i. p. 14, also _Annali d. Inst._ 1848, pl. L, and Overbeck’s _Bildwerke_, pl. 30. 8, for a vase which probably shows the escape with the idol. It is not certain, but this seems to be what is represented. The work is very ordinary.

Footnote 248:

Helbig, no. 1333, pub. in _Mon. d. Inst._ viii. pl. 22; photo, Alinari, no. 12029. Cf. Helbig, _Untersuchungen über die Campanische Wandmalerei_, p. 147 ff.

Footnote 249:

_Arch. Ztg._ 1875, p. 144.

Footnote 250:

_Loc. cit._

Footnote 251:

Vid. _Röm. Mitth._ 1896, p. 67.

Footnote 252:

We know of such an original, the famous painting of Timomachus. Pliny, _Hist. Nat._ 35. 136, says, _Timomachus Byzantius Caesaris dictatoris aetate Aiacem et Medeam pinxit_ ... TIMOMACHI AEQUE LAUDANTUR ORESTES, IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS. Further than this we know nothing of the painter. That he was immensely popular follows from Pliny’s statement (_loc. cit._) that Caesar paid 80 talents for this Aiax. In regard to the date of Timomachus we possess Pliny’s authority for _Caesaris aetate_. Robert defends this (_Arch. Märchen_, p. 132), while others seek to find an earlier date. Miss Sellers in _The Elder Pliny’s Chapters on the History of Art_, Jex-Blake and Sellers, p. 160 f., argues for the fourth century B.C. Vid. _loc. cit._ for the latest discussion of this painter’s date, as well as for references to the literature. Further reference may be made to Helbig, _Untersuchungen_, p. 147 ff., where especially the influence of Timomachus on the wall paintings is dwelt upon.

Footnote 253:

Cf. Arist. _Poet._ 1449^a. 19 and 20.

Footnote 254:

Miss Harrison, _J. H. S._ 1883, p. 248 ff., has brought together and discussed thirteen vases connected with this myth, of which the first twelve are bl. fig.

Footnote 255: